IPJIUM  iinata  •  ^F**1§  '•   •'•    ''•  'J%' '''   '*4 

TTie  Golden 
Slipper 

'and 


iliiii 

Katharine 
Green 


Outlined  in  supernatural  light, 
it  faces  them  with  uplifted  arms  " 

Drawn  by  A.  I.  Keller 


THE 
GOLDEN  SLIPPER 

And  Other  Problems  for  Violet  Strange 


By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN 
(Mrs.  Charles  Rohlfs) 

AUTHOR  OF 

"A  Strange  Disappearance,"    "That  Affair  Next  Door," 
"The  House  of  the  Whispering  Pines,"  Etc. 


With  Frontispiece  in  Colors 
By  A.  I.  KELLER 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  Arrangements  with  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


COPYRIGHT.  191 S 
BY 

ANNA  KATHARINE  ROHLFS 

Third   Impression 


By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN 

The  Leavenworth  Case.  Miss  Kurd:  An  Enigma. 

A  Strange  Disappearance.  Dr.  Izard. 

The  Sword  of  Damocles.  That  Affair  Next  Door. 

Hand  and  Ring.  Lost  Man's  Lane. 

The  Mill  Mystery.  Agatha  Webb. 

Behind  Closed  Doors.  The  House  of  the  Whispering  Pines. 

Cynthia  Wakeham's  Money.  The  Golden  Slipper  and  Other  Problems  for 
Marked  "  Personal.  "  Violet  Strange. 

To  the  Minute. 

This  edition  is  issued  under  arrangement  with  the  publishers 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

TJbe  imfcfccrbocfcer  Stress,  -Rev?  Botk 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  GOLDEN  SLIPPER  v^  i 

THE  SECOND  BULLET  v''  .  .  .  .30 
THE  INTANGIBLE  CLEW  y  .  .  .63 

THE  GROTTO  SPECTRE  ^  ....  99 
THE  DREAMING  LADY  \ '  .  .  .139 

THE  HOUSE  OF  CLOCKS  >C'  .  .  .  .184 
THE  DOCTOR,  His  WIFE,  AND  THE  CLOCK  .  247 
MISSING:  PAGE  THIRTEEN?'  ....  336 
VIOLET'S  OWN  .  .  '.  .  .  400 


iii 
- 


The  Golden  Slipper 

And  Other  Problems  for  Violet  Strange 


PROBLEM  I 

THE  GOLDEN  SLIPPER 

"ORE'S  here!    I  thought  she  would  be.     She's 
^     one  of  the  three  young  ladies  you  see  in  the 
right-hand  box  near  the  proscenium. " 

The  gentleman  thus  addressed — a  man  of 
middle  age  and  a  member  of  the  most  exclusive 
clubs — turned  his  opera  glass  toward  the  spot 
designated,  and  in  some  astonishment  retorted: 

"She?  Why  those  are  the  Misses  Pratt  and 
» 

"Miss  Violet  Strange;  no  other." 
"And  do  you  mean  to  say " 

It  T       1  »» 

I  do 

"That  yon  silly  little  chit,  whose  father  I 
know,  whose  fortune  I  know,  who  is  seen  every 
where,  and  who  is  called  one  of  the  season's  belles 
is  an  agent  of  yours;  a — a " 

i 


2  The  Golden  Slipper 

"No  names  here,  please.  You  want  a  mystery 
solved.  It  is  not  a  matter  for  the  police — that  is, 
as  yet, — and  so  you  come  to  me,  and  when  I  ask 
for  the  facts,  I  find  that  women  and  only  women 
are  involved,  and  that  these  women  are  not  only 
young  but  one  and  all  of  the  highest  society.  Is 
it  a  man's  work  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  a  com 
bination  like  this?  No.  Sex  against  sex,  and,  if 
possible,  youth  against  youth.  Happily,  I  know 
such  a  person — a  girl  of  gifts  and  extraordinarily 
well  placed  for  the  purpose.  Why  she  uses  her 
talents  in  this  direction — why,  with  means  enough 
to  play  the  part  natural  to  her  as  a  successful  de 
butante,  she  consents  to  occupy  herself  with  social 
and  other  mysteries,  you  must  ask  her,  not  me. 
Enough  that  I  promise  you  her  aid  if  you  want  it. 
That  is,  if  you  can  interest  her.  She  will  not  work 
otherwise." 

Mr.  Driscoll  again  raised  his  opera  glass. 

"But  it's  a  comedy  face, "  he  commented.  "  It's 
hard  to  associate  intellectuality  with  such  quaint- 
ness  of  expression.  Are  you  sure  of  her  discretion?  " 

"Whom  is  she  with?" 

"Abner  Pratt,  his  wife,  and  daughters." 

"  Is  he  a  man  to  entrust  his  affairs  unadvisedly?  " 

"Abner  Pratt !  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  is 
anything  more  to  him  than  his  daughters'  guest?" 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange         3 

"Judge.  You  see  how  merry  they  are.  They 
were  in  deep  trouble  yesterday.  You  are  witness 
to  a  celebration. " 

"And  she?" 

"Don't  you  observe  how  they  are  loading  her 
with  attentions?  She's  too  young  to  rouse  such 
interest  in  a  family  of  notably  unsympathetic 
temperament  for  any  other  reason  than  that  of 
gratitude." 

"It's  hard  to  believe.  But  if  what  you  hint  is 
true,  secure  me  an  opportunity  at  once  of  talking 
to  this  youthful  marvel.  My  affair  is  serious. 
The  dinner  I  have  mentioned  comes  off  in  three 
days  and " 

"I  know.  I  recognize  your  need;  but  I  think 
you  had  better  enter  Mr.  Pratt's  box  without  my 
intervention.  Miss  Strange's  value  to  us  will  be 
impaired  the  moment  her  connection  with  us  is 
discovered." 

"Ah,  there's  Ruthven !  He  will  take  me  to  Mr. 
Pratt's  box, "  remarked  Driscoll  as  the  curtain  fell 
on  the  second  act .  * '  Any  suggestions  before  I  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  an  important  one.  When  you  make 
your  bow,  touch  your  left  shoulder  with  your  right 
hand.  It  is  a  signal.  She  may  respond  to  it; 
but  if  she  does  not,  do  not  be  discouraged.  One 
of  her  idiosyncrasies  is  a  theoretical  dislike  of  her 


4  The  Golden  Slipper 

work.  But  once  she  gets  interested,  nothing  will 
hold  her  back.  That's  all,  except  this.  In  no 
event  give  away  her  secret.  That's  part  of  the 
compact,  you  remember." 

Driscoll  nodded  and  left  his  seat  for  Ruthven's 
box.  When  the  curtain  rose  for  the  third  time  he 
could  be  seen  sitting  with  the  Misses  Pratt  and 
their  vivacious  young  friend.  A  widower  and  still 
on  the  right  side  of  fifty,  his  presence  there  did  not 
pass  unnoted,  and  curiosity  was  rife  among  certain 
onlookers  as  to  which  of  the  twin  belles  was 
responsible  for  this  change  in  his  well-known 
habits.  Unfortunately,  no  opportunity  was  given 
him  for  showing.  Other  and  younger  men  had 
followed  his  lead  into  the  box,  and  they  saw  him 
forced  upon  the  good  graces  of  the  fascinating 
but  inconsequent  Miss  Strange  whose  rapid  fire 
of  talk  he  was  hardly  of  a  temperament  to  ap 
preciate. 

Did  he  appear  dissatisfied?  Yes;  but  only  one 
person  in  the  opera  house  knew  why.  Miss 
Strange  had  shown  no  comprehension  of  or  sym 
pathy  with  his  errand.  Though  she  chatted 
amiably  enough  between  duets  and  trios,  she  gave 
him  no  opportunity  to  express  his  wishes  though 
she  knew  them  well  enough,  owing  to  the  signal  he 
had  given  her. 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange        5 

This  might  be  in  character  but  it  hardly  suited 
his  views;  and,  being  a  man  of  resolution,  he  took 
advantage  of  an  absorbing  minute  on  the  stage  to 
lean  forward  and  whisper  in  her  ear: 

"It's  my  daughter  for  whom  I  request  your  serv 
ices;  as  fine  a  girl  as  any  in  this  house.  Give  me 
a  hearing. .  You  certainly  can  manage  it. " 

She  was  a  small,  slight  woman  whose  naturally 
quaint  appearance  was  accentuated  by  the  extreme 
simplicity  of  her  attire.  In  the  tier  upon  tier  of 
boxes  rising  before  his  eyes,  no  other  personality 
could  vie  with  hers  in  strangeness,  or  in  the  illusive 
quality  of  her  ever-changing  expression.  She  was 
vivacity  incarnate  and,  to  the  ordinary  observer, 
light  as  thistledown  in  fibre  and  in  feeling.  But 
not  to  all.  To  those  who  watched  her  long,  there 
came  moments — say  when  the  music  rose  to 
heights  of  greatness — when  the  mouth  so  given 
over  to  laughter  took  on  curves  of  the  rarest  sensi 
bility,  and  a  woman's  lofty  soul  shone  through  her 
odd,  bewildering  features. 

Driscoll  had  noted  this,  and  consequently 
awaited  her  reply  in  secret  hope. 

It  came  in  the  form  of  a  question  and  only  after 
an  instant's  display  of  displeasure  or  possibly  of 
pure  nervous  irritability. 

"What  has  she  done?" 


6  The  Golden  Slipper 

"Nothing.  But  slander  is  in  the  air,  and  any 
day  it  may  ripen  into  public  accusation. " 

" Accusation  of  what?"  Her  tone  was  almost 
pettish. 

"Of— of  theft,"  he  murmured.  "On  a  great 
scale, "  he  emphasized,  as  the  music  rose  to  a  crash. 

"  Jewels?  " 

"Inestimable  ones.  They  are  always  returned 
by  somebody.  People  say,  by  me. " 

"Ah!"  The  little  lady's  hands  grew  steady, — 
they  had  been  fluttering  all  over  her  lap.  "  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow  morning  at  my  father's  house, " 
she  presently  observed ;  and  turned  her  full  atten 
tion  to  the  stage. 

Some  three  days  after  this  Mr.  Driscoll  opened 
his  house  on  the  Hudson  to  notable  guests.  He 
had  not  desired  the  publicity  of  such  an  event,  nor 
the  opportunity  it  gave  for  an  increase  of  the 
scandal  secretly  in  circulation  against  his  daughter. 
But  the  Ambassador  and  his  wife  were  foreign  and 
any  evasion  of  the  promised  hospitality  would 
be  sure  to  be  misunderstood;  so  the  scheme  was 
carried  forward  though  with  less  Sclat  than  pos 
sibly  was  expected. 

Among  the  lesser  guests,  who  were  mostly 
young  and  well  acquainted  with  the  house  and  its 
hospitality,  there  was  one  unique  figure, — that  of 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange        7 

the  lively  Miss  Strange,  who,  if  personally  un 
known  to  Miss  Driscoll,  was  so  gifted  with  the 
qualities  which  tell  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind, 
that  the  stately  young  hostess  hailed  her  presence 
with  very  obvious  gratitude. 

The  manner  of  their  first  meeting  was  singular, 
and  of  great  interest  to  one  of  them  at  least.  Miss 
Strange  had  come  in  an  automobile  and  had  been 
shown  her  room ;  but  there  was  nobody  to  accom 
pany  her  down-stairs  afterward,  and,  finding  her 
self  alone  in  the  great  hall,  she  naturally  moved 
toward  the  library,  the  door  of  which  stood  ajar. 
She  had  pushed  this  door  half  open  before  she 
noticed  that  the  room  was  already  occupied.  As 
a  consequence,  she  was  made  the  unexpected  ob 
server  of  a  beautiful  picture  of  youth  and  love. 

A  young  man  and  a  young  woman  were  standing 
together  in  the  glow  of  a  blazing  wood-fire.  No 
word  was  to  be  heard,  but  in  their  faces,  eloquent 
with  passion,  there  shone  something  so  deep  and 
true  that  the  chance  intruder  hesitated  on  the 
threshold,  eager  to  lay  this  picture  away  in  her 
mind  with  the  other  lovely  and  tragic  memories 
now  fast  accumulating  there.  Then  she  drew  back, 
and  readvancing  with  a  less  noiseless  foot,  came 
into  the  full  presence  of  Captain  Holliday  drawn 
up  in  all  the  pride  of  his  military  rank  beside 


8  The  Golden  Slipper 

Alicia,  the  accomplished  daughter  of  the  house, 
who,  if  under  a  shadow  as  many  whispered,  wore 
that  shadow  as  some  women  wear  a  crown. 

Miss  Strange  was  struck  with  admiration,  and 
turned  upon  them  the  brightest  facet  of  her  viva 
cious  nature  all  tho  time  she  was  saying  to  herself : 
4 'Does  she  know  why  I  am  here?  Or  does  she 
look  upon  me  only  as  an  additional  guest  foisted 
upon  her  by  a  thoughtless  parent?" 

There  was  nothing  in  the  manner  of  her  cordial 
but  composed  young  hostess  to  show,  and  Miss 
Strange,  with  but  one  thought  in  mind  since  she 
had  caught  the  light  of  feeling  on  the  two  faces 
confronting  her,  took  the  first  opportunity  that 
offered  of  running  over  the  facts  given  her  by  Mr. 
Driscoll,  to  see  if  any  reconcilement  were  possible 
between  them  and  an  innocence  in  which  she  must 
henceforth  believe. 

They  were  certainly  of  a  most  damaging  nature. 

Miss  Driscoll  and  four  other  young  ladies  of 
her  own  station  in  life  had  formed  themselves,  some 
two  years  before,  into  a  coterie  of  five,  called  The 
Inseparables.  They  lunched  together,  rode  to 
gether,  visited  together.  So  close  was  the  bond 
and  their  mutual  dependence  so  evident,  that  it 
came  to  be  the  custom  to  invite  the  whole  five 
whenever  the  size  of  the  function  warranted  it.  In 


Problem  I  for  Violet  Strange         9 

fact,  it  was  far  from  an  uncommon  occurrence  to 
see  them  grouped  at  receptions  or  following  one 
another  down  the  aisles  of  churches  or  through  the 
mazes  of  the  dance  at  balls  or  assemblies.  And  no 
one  demurred  at  this,  for  they  were  all  handsome 
and  attractive  girls,  till  it  began  to  be  noticed  that, 
coincident  with  their  presence,  some  article  of 
value  was  found  missing  from  the  dressing-room 
or  from  the  tables  where  wedding  gifts  were  dis 
played.  Nothing  was  safe  where  they  went,  and 
though,  in  the  course  of  time,  each  article  found  its 
way  back  to  its  owner  in  a  manner  as  mysterious 
as  its  previous  abstraction,  the  scandal  grew 
and,  whether  with  good  reason  or  bad,  finally 
settled  about  the  person  of  Miss  Driscoll,  who 
was  the  showiest,  least  pecuniarily  tempted, 
and  most  dignified  in  manner  and  speech  of 
them  all. 

Some  instances  had  been  given  by  way  of  further 
enlightenment.  This  is  one:  A  theatre  party  was 
in  progress.  There  were  twelve  in  the  party,  five 
of  whom  were  Inseparables.  In  the  course  of  the 
last  act,  another  lady — in  fact,  their  chaperon — 
missed  her  handkerchief,  an  almost  priceless  bit  of 
lace.  Positive  that  she  had  brought  it  with  her 
into  the  box,  she  caused  a  careful  search,  but  with 
out  the  least  success.  Recalling  certain  whispers 


io  The  Golden  Slipper 

she  had  heard,  she  noted  which  of  the  five  girls 
were  with  her  in  the  box.  They  were  Miss  Driscoll, 
Miss  Hughson,  Miss  Yates,  and  Miss  Benedict. 
Miss  West  sat  in  the  box  adjoining. 

A  fortnight  later  this  handkerchief  reappeared — 
and  where?  Among  the  cushions  of  a  yellow  satin 
couch  in  her  own  drawing-room.  The  Insepara 
bles  had  just  made  their  call  and  the  three  who  had 
sat  on  the  couch  were  Miss  Driscoll,  Miss  Hughson, 
and  Miss  Benedict. 

The  next  instance  seemed  to  point  still  more 
insistently  toward  the  lady  already  named.  Miss 
Yates  had  an  expensive  present  to  buy,  and  the 
whole  five  Inseparables  went  in  an  imposing  group 
to  Tiffany's.  A  tray  of  rings  was  set  before  them. 
All  examined  and  eagerly  fingered  the  stock  out 
of  which  Miss  Yates  presently  chose  a  finely  set 
emerald.  She  was  leading  her  friends  away  when 
the  clerk  suddenly  whispered  in  her  ear,  "I  miss 
one  of  the  rings. "  Dismayed  beyond  speech,  she 
turned  and  consulted  the  faces  of  her  four  com 
panions  who  stared  back  at  her  with  immovable 
serenity.  But  one  of  them  was  paler  than  usual, 
and  this  lady  (it  was  Miss  Driscoll)  held  her  hands 
in  her  muff  and  did  not  offer  to  take  them  out. 
Miss  Yates,  whose  father  had  completed  a  big 
"deal"  the  week  before,  wheeled  round  upon  the 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       n 

clerk.  "Charge  it!  charge  it  at  its  full  value," 
said  she.  "I  buy  both  the  rings." 

And  in  three  weeks  the  purloined  ring  came  back 
to  her,  in  a  box  of  violets  with  no  name  attached. 

The  third  instance  was  a  recent  one,  and  had 
come  to  Mr.  DriscolTs  ears  directly  from  the  lady 
suffering  the  loss.  She  was  a  woman  of  uncom 
promising  integrity,  who  felt  it  her  duty  to  make 
known  to  this  gentleman  the  following  facts:  She 
had  just  left  a  studio  reception,  and  was  standing 
at  the  curb  waiting  for  a  taxicab  to  draw  up,  when 
a  small  boy — a  street  arab — darted  toward  her 
from  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  thrusting 
into  her  hand  something  small  and  hard,  cried 
breathlessly  as  he  slipped  away,  "It's  yours, 
ma'am;  you  dropped  it."  Astonished,  for  she 
had  not  been  conscious  of  any  loss,  she  looked 
down  at  her  treasure  trove  and  found  it  to  be  a 
small  medallion  which  she  sometimes  wore  on  a 
chain  at  her  belt.  But  she  had  not  worn  it  that 
day,  nor  any  day  for  weeks.  Then  she  remem 
bered.  She  had  worn  it  a  month  before  to  a 
similar  reception  at  this  same  studio.  A  number 
of  young  girls  had  stood  about  her  admiring  it — 
she  remembered  well  who  they  were ;  the  Insepara 
bles,  of  course,  and  to  please  them  she  had  slipped 
it  from  its  chain.  Then  something  had  happened, 


12  The  Golden  Slipper 

— something  which  diverted  her  attention  entirely, 
— and  she  had  gone  home  without  the  medallion ; 
had,  in  fact,  forgotten  it,  only  to  recall  its  loss  now. 
Placing  it  in  her  bag,  she  looked  hastily  about  her. 
A  crowd  was  at  her  back;  nothing  to  be  distin 
guished  there.  But  in  front,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  stood  a  club-house,  and  in  one  of  its 
windows  she  perceived  a  solitary  figure  looking  out. 
It  was  that  of  Miss  Driscoll's  father.  He  could 
imagine  her  conclusion. 

In  vain  he  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  matter. 
She  told  him  other  stories  which  had  come  to  her 
ears  of  thefts  as  mysterious,  followed  by  resto 
rations  as  peculiar  as  this  one,  finishing  with,  "It 
is  your  daughter,  and  people  are  beginning  to  say 


so.'5 


And  Miss  Strange,  brooding  over  these  instances, 
would  have  said  the  same,  but  for  Miss  Driscoll's 
absolute  serenity  of  demeanour  and  complete 
abandonment  to  love.  These  seemed  incompati 
ble  with  guilt;  these,  whatever  the  appearances, 
proclaimed  innocence — an  innocence  she  was  here 
to  prove  if  fortune  favoured  and  the  really  guilty 
person's  madness  should  again  break  forth. 

For  madness  it  would  be  and  nothing  less,  for 
any  hand,  even  the  most  experienced,  to  draw 
attention  to  itself  by  a  repetition  of  old  tricks  on 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       13 

an  occasion  so  marked.  Yet  because  it  would 
take  madness,  and  madness  knows  no  law,  she 
prepared  herself  for  the  contingency  under  a  mask 
of  girlish  smiles  which  made  her  at  once  the  delight 
and  astonishment  of  her  watchful  and  uneasy  host. 

With  the  exception  of  the  diamonds  worn  by  the 
Ambassadress,  there  was  but  one  jewel  of  conse 
quence  to  be  seen  at  the  dinner  that  night;  but 
how  great  was  that  consequence  and  with  what 
splendour  it  invested  the  snowy  neck  it  adorned! 

Miss  Strange,  in  compliment  to  the  noble  for 
eigners,  had  put  on  one  of  her  family  heirlooms — a 
filigree  pendant  of  extraordinary  sapphires  which 
had  once  belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette.  As  its 
beauty  flashed  upon  the  women,  and  its  value 
struck  the  host,  the  latter  could  not  restrain  him 
self  from  casting  an  anxious  eye  about  the  board 
in  search  of  some  token  of  the  cupidity  with  which 
one  person  there  must  welcome  this  unexpected 
sight. 

Naturally  his  first  glance  fell  upon  Alicia,  seated 
opposite  to  him  at  the  other  end  of  the  table.  But 
her  eyes  were  elsewhere,  and  her  smile  for  Captain 
Holliday,  and  the  father's  gaze  travelled  on,  taking 
up  each  young  girl's  face  in  turn.  All  were  con 
templating  Miss  Strange  and  her  jewels,  and  the 
cheeks  of  one  were  flushed  and  those  of  the  others 


14  The  Golden  Slipper 

pale,  but  whether  with  dread  or  longing  who  could 
tell.  Struck  with  foreboding,  but  alive  to  his  duty 
as  host,  he  forced  his  glances  away,  and  did  not 
even  allow  himself  to  question  the  motive  or  the 
wisdom  of  the  temptation  thus  offered. 

Two  hours  later  and  the  girls  were  all  in  one 
room.  It  was  a  custom  of  the  Inseparables  to 
meet  for  a  chat  before  retiring,  but  always  alone 
and  in  the  room  of  one  of  their  number.  But  this 
was  a  night  of  innovations;  Violet  was  not  only 
included,  but  the  meeting  was  held  in  her  room. 
Her  way  with  girls  was  even  more  fruitful  of  result 
than  her  way  with  men.  They  might  laugh  at  her, 
criticize  her  or  even  call  her  names  significant  of 
disdain,  but  they  never  left  her  long  to  herself  or 
missed  an  opportunity  to  make  the  most  of  her 
irrepressible  chatter. 

Her  satisfaction  at  entering  this  charmed  circle 
did  not  take  from  her  piquancy,  and  story  after 
story  fell  from  her  lips,  as  she  fluttered  about, 
now  here  now  there,  in  her  endless  preparations 
for  retirement.  She  had  taken  off  her  historic 
pendant  after  it  had  been  duly  admired  and 
handled  by  all  present,  and,  with  the  careless 
confidence  of  an  assured  ownership,  thrown  it 
down  upon  the  end  of  her  dresser,  which,  by  the 
way,  projected  very  close  to  the  open  window 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       15 


"Are  you  going  to  leave  your  jewel  there?" 
whispered  a  voice  in  her  ear  as  a  burst  of  laughter 
rang  out  in  response  to  one  of  her  sallies. 

Turning,  with  a  simulation  of  round-eyed 
wonder,  she  met  Miss  Hughson's  earnest  gaze  with 
the  careless  rejoinder,  "What's  the  harm?"  and 
went  on  with  her  story  with  all  the  reckless  ease  of 
a  perfectly  thoughtless  nature. 

Miss  Hughson  abandoned  her  protest.  How 
could  she  explain  her  reasons  for  it  to  one  appar 
ently  uninitiated  in  the  scandal  associated  with 
their  especial  clique. 

Yes,  she  left  the  jewel  there;  but  she  locked 
her  door  and  quickly,  so  that  they  must  all  have 
heard  her  before  reaching  their  rooms.  Then  she 
crossed  to  the  window,  which,  like  all  on  this  side, 
opened  on  a  balcony  running  the  length  of  the 
house.  She  was  aware  of  this  balcony,  also  of  the 
fact  that  only  young  ladies  slept  in  the  corridor 
communicating  with  it.  But  she  was  not  quite 
sure  that  this  one  corridor  accommodated  them 
all.  If  one  of  them  should  room  elsewhere! 
(Miss  Driscoll,  for  instance) .  But  no !  the  anxiety 
displayed  for  the  safety  of  her  jewel  precluded  that 
supposition.  Their  hostess,  if  none  of  the  others, 
was  within  access  of  this  room  and  its  open  window. 
But  how  about  the  rest  ?  Perhaps  the  lights  would 


1 6  The  Golden  Slipper 

tell.  Eagerly  the  little  schemer  looked  forth,  and 
let  her  glances  travel  down  the  full  length  of  the 
balcony.  Two  separate  beams  of  light  shot  across 
it  as  she  looked,  and  presently  another,  and,  after 
some  waiting,  a  fourth.  But  the  fifth  failed  to 
appear.  This  troubled  her,  but  not  seriously. 
Two  of  the  girls  might  be  sleeping  in  one  bed. 

Drawing  her  shade,  she  finished  her  preparations 
for  the  night;  then  with  her  kimono  on,  lifted  the 
pendant  and  thrust  it  into  a  small  box  she  had 
taken  from  her  trunk.  A  curious  smile,  very 
unlike  any  she  had  shown  to  man  or  woman  that 
day,  gave  a  sarcastic  lift  to  her  lips,  as  with  a  slow 
and  thoughtful  manipulation  of  her  dainty  fingers 
she  moved  the  jewel  about  in  this  small  receptacle 
and  then  returned  it,  after  one  quick  examining 
glance,  to  the  very  spot  on  the  dresser  from  which 
she  had  taken  it.  "If  only  the  madness  is  great 
enough ! "  that  smile  seemed  to  say.  Truly,  it  was 
much  to  hope  for,  but  a  chance  is  a  chance;  and 
comforting  herself  with  the  thought,  Miss  Strange 
put  out  her  light,  and,  with  a  hasty  raising  of  the 
shade  she  had  previously  pulled  down,  took  a  final 
look  at  the  prospect. 

Its  aspect  made  her  shudder.  A  low  fog  was 
rising  from  the  meadows  in  the  far  distance,  and 
its  ghostliness  under  the  moon  woke  all  sorts  of 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       17 

uncanny  images  in  her  excited  mind.  To  escape 
them  she  crept  into  bed  where  she  lay  with  her 
eyes  on  the  end  of  her  dresser.  She  had  closed 
that  half  of  the  French  window  over  which  she  had 
drawn  the  shade;  but  she  had  left  ajar  the  one 
giving  free  access  to  the  jewels;  and  when  she  was 
not  watching  the  scintillation  of  her  sapphires  in 
the  moonlight,  she  was  dwelling  in  fixed  attention 
on  this  narrow  opening. 

But  nothing  happened,  and  two  o'clock,  then 
three  o'clock  struck,  without  a  dimming  of  the 
blue  scintillations  on  the  end  of  her  dresser.  Then 
she  suddenly  sat  up.  Not  that  she  heard  anything 
new,  but  that  a  thought  had  come  to  her.  "  If  an 
attempt  is  made,"  so  she  murmured  softly  to 
herself,  "it  will  be  by—"  She  did  not  finish. 
Something — she  could  not  call  it  sound — set  her 
heart  beating  tumultuously,  and  listening — listen 
ing — watching — watching — she  followed  in  her 
imagination  the  approach  down  the  balcony  of  an 
almost  inaudible  step,  not  daring  to  move  herself, 
it  seemed  so  near,  but  waiting  with  eyes  fixed, 
for  the  shadow  which  must  fall  across  the  shade 
she  had  failed  to  raise  over  that  half  of  the  swinging 
window  she  had  so  carefully  left  shut. 

At  length  she  saw  it  projecting  slowly  across 
the  slightly  illuminated  surface.  Formless,  save 


i8  The  Golden  Slipper 

for  the  outreaching  hand,  it  passed  the  casement's 
edge,  nearing  with  pauses  and  hesitations  the  open 
gap  beyond  through  which  the  neglected  sapphires 
beamed  with  steady  lustre.  Would  she  ever  see 
the  hand  itself  appear  between  the  dresser  and  the 
window  frame?  Yes,  there  it  comes, — small,  deli 
cate,  and  startlingly  white,  threading  that  gap — 
darting  with  the  suddenness  of  a  serpent 's  tongue 
toward  the  dresser  and  disappearing  again  with  the 
pendant  in  its  clutch. 

As  she  realizes  this, — she  is  but  young,  you 
know, — as  she  sees  her  bait  taken  and  the  hardly 
expected  event  fulfilled,  her  pent-up  breath  sped 
forth  in  a  sigh  which  sent  the  intruder  flying,  and 
so  startled  herself  that  she  sank  back  in  terror  on 
her  pillow. 

The  breakfast-call  had  sounded  its  musical 
chimes  through  the  halls.  The  Ambassador  and 
his  wife  had  responded,  so  had  most  of  the  young 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  but  the  daughter  of  the 
house  was  not  amongst  them,  nor  Miss  Strange, 
whom  one  would  naturally  expect  to  see  down  first 
of  all. 

These  two  absences  puzzled  Mr.  Driscoll  What 
might  they  not  portend?  But  his  suspense,  at 
least  in  one  regard,  was  short.  Before  his  guests 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       19 

were  well  seated,  Miss  Driscoll  entered  from  the 
terrace  in  company  with  Captain  Holliday.  In 
her  arms  she  carried  a  huge  bunch  of  roses  and 
was  looking  very  beautiful.  Her  father's  heart 
warmed  at  the  sight.  No  shadow  from  the  night 
rested  upon  her. 

But  Miss  Strange! — where  was  she?  He  could 
not  feel  quite  easy  till  he  knew. 

"Have  any  of  you  seen  Miss  Strange?"  he 
asked,  as  they  sat  down  at  table.  And  his  eyes 
sought  the  Inseparables. 

Five  lovely  heads  were  shaken,  some  carelessly, 
some  wonderingly,  and  one,  with  a  quick,  forced 
smile.  But  he  was  in  no  mood  to  discriminate, 
and  he  had  beckoned  one  of  the  servants  to  him, 
when  a  step  was  heard  at  the  door  and  the  delin 
quent  slid  in  and  took  her  place,  in  a  shamefaced 
manner  suggestive  of  a  cause  deeper  than  mere 
tardiness.  In  fact,  she  had  what  might  be  called 
a  frightened  air,  and  stared  into  her  plate,  avoiding 
every  eye,  which  was  certainly  not  natural  to  her. 
What  did  it  mean?  and  why,  as  she  made  a  poor 
attempt  at  eating,  did  four  of  the  Inseparables 
exchange  glances  of  doubt  and  dismay  and  then 
concentrate  their  looks  upon  his  daughter?  That 
Alicia  failed  to  notice  this,  but  sat  abloom  above 
her  roses  now  fastened  in  a  great  bunch  upon  her 


2O  The  Golden  Slipper 

breast,  offered  him  some  comfort,  yet,  for  all  the 
volubility  of  his  chief  guests,  the  meal  was  a  great 
trial  to  his  patience,  as  well  as  a  poor  preparation 
for  the  hour  when,  the  noble  pair  gone,  he  stepped 
into  the  library  to  find  Miss  Strange  awaiting  him 
with  one  hand  behind  her  back  and  a  piteous  look 
on  her  infantile  features. 

"0,  Mr.  Driscoll,"  she  began, — and  then  he 
saw  that  a  group  of  anxious  girls  hovered  in  her 
rear — "my  pendant!  my  beautiful  pendant!  It 
is  gone!  Somebody  reached  in  from  the  balcony 
and  took  it  from  my  dresser  in  the  night.  Of 
course,  it  was  to  frighten  me;  all  of  the  girls  told 
me  not  to  leave  it  there.  But  I — I  cannot  make 
them  give  it  back,  and  papa  is  so  particular  about 
this  jewel  that  I'm  afraid  to  go  home.  Won't 
you  tell  them  it's  no  joke,  and  see  that  I  get  it 
again.  I  won't  be  so  careless  another  time." 

Hardly  believing  his  eyes,  hardly  believing  his 
ears, — she  was  so  perfectly  the  spoiled  child 
detected  in  a  fault — he  looked  sternly  about  upon 
the  girls  and  bade  them  end  the  jest  and  produce 
the  gems  at  once. 

But  not  one  of  them  spoke,  and  not  one  of  them 
moved;  only  his  daughter  grew  pale  until  the 
roses  seemed  a  mockery,  and  the  steady  stare  of 
her  large  eyes  was  almost  too  much  for  him  to  bear. 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       21 

The  anguish  of  this  gave  asperity  to  his  manner, 
and  in  a  strange,  hoarse  tone  he  loudly  cried : 

"One  of  you  did  this.  Which?  If  it  was  you, 
Alicia,  speak.  I  am  in  no  mood  for  nonsense. 
I  want  to  know  whose  foot  traversed  the  balcony 
and  whose  hand  abstracted  these  jewels." 

A  continued  silence,  deepening  into  painful 
embarrassment  for  all.  Mr.  Driscoll  eyed  them  in 
ill-concealed  anguish,  then  turning  to  Miss  Strange 
was  still  further  thrown  off  his  balance  by  seeing 
her  pretty  head  droop  and  her  gaze  fall  in  confusion. 

"  Oh !  it's  easy  enough  to  tell  whose  foot  traversed 
the  balcony,"  she  murmured.  "  It  left  this  behind." 
And  drawing  forward  her  hand,  she  held  out  to 
view  a  small  gold-coloured  slipper.  "I  found  it 
outside  my  window,"  she  explained.  "I  hoped 
I  should  not  have  to  show  it." 

A  gasp  of  uncontrollable  feeling  from  the  sur 
rounding  group  of  girls,  then  absolute  stillness. 

" I  fail  to  recognize  it,"  observed  Mr.  Driscoll, 
taking  it  in  his  hand.  "Whose  slipper  is  this?" 
he  asked  in  a  manner  not  to  be  gainsaid. 

Still  no  reply,  then  as  he  continued  to  eye  the 
girls  one  after  another  a  voice — the  last  he  expected 
to  hear — spoke  and  his  daughter  cried : 

"  It  is  mine.  But  it  was  not  I  who  walked  in  it 
down  the  balcony. " 


22  The  Golden  Slipper 

"  Alicia !" 

A  month's  apprehension  was  in  that  cry.  The 
silence,  the  pent-up  emotion  brooding  in  the  air 
was  intolerable.  A  fresh  young  laugh  broke  it. 

"Oh, "  exclaimed  a  roguish  voice,  "I  knew  that 
you  were  all  in  it!  But  the  especial  one  who  wore 
the  slipper  and  grabbed  the  pendant  cannot  hope 
to  hide  herself.  Her  finger-tips  will  give  her 
away." 

Amazement  on  every  face  and  a  convulsive 
movement  in  one  half -hidden  hand. 

"You  see, "  the  airy  little  being  went  on,  in  her 
light  way,  "I  have  some  awfully  funny  tricks.  I 
am  always  being  scolded  for  them,  but  somehow  I 
don't  improve.  One  is  to  keep  my  jewelry  bright 
with  a  strange  foreign  paste  an  old  Frenchwoman 
once  gave  me  in  Paris.  It's  of  a  vivid  red,  and 
stains  the  fingers  dreadfully  if  you  don't  take  care. 
Not  even  water  will  take  it  off,  see  mine.  I  used 
that  paste  on  my  pendant  last  night  just  after  you 
left  me,  and  being  awfully  sleepy  I  didn't  stop 
to  rub  it  off.  If  your  finger-tips  are  not  red,  you 
never  touched  the  pendant,  Miss  Driscoll.  Oh, 
see !  They  are  as  white  as  milk. 

"But  some  one  took  the  sapphires,  and  I  owe 
that  person  a  scolding,  as  well  as  myself.  Was 
it  you,  Miss  Hughson?  You,  Miss  Yates?  or — " 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       23 

and  here  she  paused  before  Miss  West,  "Oh,  you 
have  your  gloves  on!  You  are  the  guilty  one!" 
and  her  laugh  rang  out  like  a  peal  of  bells,  robbing 
her  next  sentence  of  even  a  suggestion  of  sarcasm. 
"Oh,  what  a  sly-boots!"  she  cried.  "How  you 
have  deceived  me !  Whoever  would  have  thought 
you  to  be  the  one  to  play  the  mischief!" 

Who  indeed!  Of  all  the  five,  she  was  the  one 
who  was  considered  absolutely  immune  from  sus 
picion  ever  since  the  night  Mrs.  Barnum's  hand 
kerchief  had  been  taken,  and  she  not  in  the  box. 
Eyes  which  had  surveyed  Miss  Driscoll  askance 
now  rose  in  wonder  toward  hers,  and  failed  to  fall 
again  because  of  the  stoniness  into  which  her 
delicately-carved  features  had  settled. 

"Miss  West,  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to  remove 
your  gloves;  Miss  Strange  certainly  has  a  right 
to  know  her  special  tormentor, "  spoke  up  her  host 
in  as  natural  a  voice  as  his  great  relief  would 
allow. 

But  the  cold,  half -frozen  woman  remained  with 
out  a  movement.  She  was  not  deceived  by  the 
banter  of  the  moment.  She  knew  that  to  all  of 
the  others,  if  not  to  Peter  Strange's  odd  little 
daughter,  it  was  the  thief  who  was  being  spotted 
and  brought  thus  hilariously  to  light.  And  her 
eyes  grew  hard,  and  her  lips  grey,  and  she  failed  to 


24  The  Golden  Slipper 

unglove  the  hands  upon  which  all  glances  were 
concentrated. 

"You  do  not  need  to  see  my  hands;  I  confess  to 
taking  the  pendant. " 

"Caroline!" 

A  heart  overcome  by  shock  had  thrown  up  this 
cry.  Miss  West  eyed  her  bosom-friend  dis 
dainfully. 

"Miss  Strange  has  called  it  a  jest,"  she  coldly 
commented.  "Why  should  you  suggest  anything 
of  a  graver  character?" 

Alicia  brought  thus  to  bay,  and  by  one  she 
had  trusted  most,  stepped  quickly  forward, 
and  quivering  with  vague  doubts,  aghast 
before  unheard-of  possibilities,  she  tremulously 
remarked : 

"We  did  not  sleep  together  last  night.  You 
had  to  come  into  my  room  to  get  my  slippers. 
Why  did  you  do  this?  What  was  in  your  mind, 
Caroline?" 

A  steady  look,  a  low  laugh  choked  with  many 
emotions  answered  her. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  reply,  Alicia?  Or  shall 
we  let  it  pass?" 

"Answer!" 

It  was  Mr.  Driscoll  who  spoke.  Alicia  had 
shrunk  back,  almost  to  where  a  little  figure  was 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       25 

cowering  with  wide  eyes  fixed  in  something  like 
terror  on  the  aroused  father's  face. 

"Then  hear  me, "  murmured  the  girl,  entrapped 
and  suddenly  desperate.  "  I  wore  Alicia's  slippers 
and  I  took  the  jewels,  because  it  was  time  that  an 
end  should  come  to  your  mutual  dissimulation. 
The  love  I  once  felt  for  her  she  has  herself  deliber 
ately  killed.  I  had  a  lover — she  took  him.  I 
had  faith  in  life,  in  honour,  and  in  friendship.  She 
destroyed  all.  A  thief — she  has  dared  to  aspire  to 
him!  And  you  condoned  her  fault.  You,  with 
your  craven  restoration  of  her  booty,  thought  the 
matter  cleared  and  her  a  fit  mate  for  a  man  of 
highest  honour. " 

"Miss  West," —  no  one  had  ever  heard  that 
tone  in  Mr.  Driscoll's  voice  before,  "  before  you 
.say  another  word  calculated  to  mislead  these  ladies, 
let  me  say  that  this  hand  never  returned  any  one's 
booty  or  had  anything  to  do  with  the  restoration 
of  any  abstracted  article.  You  have  been  caught 
in  a  net,  Miss  West,  from  which  you  cannot  escape 
by  slandering  my  innocent  daughter." 

"Innocent!"  All  the  tragedy  latent  in  this 
peculiar  girl's  nature  blazed  forth  in  the  word. 
"Alicia,  face  me.  Are  you  innocent?  Who  took 
the  Dempsey  corals,  and  that  diamond  from  the 
Tiffany  tray?" 


26  The  Golden  Slipper 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  Alicia  to  answer,"  the 
father  interposed  with  not  unnatural  heat.  ' '  Miss 
West  stands  self  -con  victed. " 

"How  about  Lady  Paget's  scarf?  I  was  not 
there  that  night. " 

"You  are  a  woman  of  wiles.  That  could  be 
managed  by  one  bent  on  an  elaborate  scheme  of 
revenge." 

"And  so  could  the  abstraction  of  Mrs.  Barnum's 
five-hundred-dollar  handkerchief  by  one  who  sat 
in  the  next  box, "  chimed  in  Miss  Hughson,  edging 
away  from  the  friend  to  whose  honour  she  would 
have  pinned  her  faith  an  hour  before.  "I  re 
member  now  seeing  her  lean  over  the  railing  to 
adjust  the  old  lady's  shawl. " 

With  a  start,  Caroline  West  turned  a  tragic 
gaze  upon  the  speaker. 

"You  think  me  guilty  of  all  because  of  what  I 
did  last  night?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I." 

"And  you,  Anna?" 

"Alicia  has  my  sympathy,"  murmured  Miss 
Benedict. 

Yet  the  wild  girl  persisted. 

"But  I  have  told  you  my  provocation.  You 
cannot  believe  that  I  am  guilty  of  her  sin;  not 
if  you  look  at  her  as  I  am  looking  now. " 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       27 

But  their  glances  hardly  followed  her  pointing 
finger.  Her  friends — the  comrades  of  her  youth, 
the  Inseparables  with  their  secret  oath — one  and 
all  held  themselves  aloof,  struck  by  the  perfidy 
they  were  only  just  beginning  to  take  in.  Smitten 
with  despair,  for  these  girls  were  her  life,  she  gave 
one  wild  leap  and  sank  on  her  knees  before  Alicia. 

"  O  speak ! "  she  began.    "  Forgive  me,  and " 

A  tremble  seized  her  throat ;  she  ceased  to  speak 
and  let  fall  her  partially  uplifted  hands.  The 
cheery  sound  of  men's  voices  had  drifted  in  from 
the  terrace,  and  the  figure  of  Captain  Holliday 
could  be  seen  passing  by.  The  shudder  which 
shook  Caroline  West  communicated  itself  to 
Alicia  Driscoll,  and  the  former  rising  quickly,  the 
two  women  surveyed  each  other,  possibly  for  the 
first  time,  with  open  soul  and  a  complete  under 
standing. 

"Caroline!"  murmured  the  one. 

"Alicia!"  pleaded  the  other. 

"Caroline,  trust  me,"  said  Alicia  Driscoll 
in  that  moving  voice  of  hers,  which  more  than  her 
beauty  caught  and  retained  all  hearts.  "You 
have  served  me  ill,  but  it  was  not  all  undeserved. 
Girls,"  she  went  on,  eyeing  both  them  and  her 
father  with  the  wistfulness  of  a  breaking  heart, 
"  neither  Caroline  nor  myself  are  worthy  of  Captain 


28  The  Golden  Slipper 

Holliday's  love.  Caroline  has  told  you  her  fault, 
but  mine  is  perhaps  a  worse  one.  The  ring — the 
scarf — the  diamond  pins — I  took  them  all — took 
them  if  I  did  not  retain  them.  A  curse  has  been 
over  my  life — the  curse  of  a  longing  I  could  not 
combat.  But  love  was  working  a  change  in  me. 
Since  I  have  known  Captain  Holliday — but  that's 
all  over.  I  was  mad  to  think  I  could  be  happy 
with  such  memories  in  my  life.  I  shall  never 
marry  now — or  touch  jewels  again — my  own  or 
another's.  Father,  father,  you  won't  go  back  on 
your  girl!  I  couldn't  see  Caroline  suffer  for  what 
I  have  done.  You  will  pardon  me.  and  help — 
help " 

Her  voice  choked.  She  flung  herself  into  her 
father's  arms ;  his  head  bent  over  hers,  and  for  an 
instant  not  a  soul  in  the  room  moved.  Then 
Miss  Hughson  gave  a  spring  and  caught  her  by 
the  hand. 

"We  are  inseparable,"  said  she,  and  kissed  the 
hand,  murmuring,  "Now  is  our  time  to  show 
it." 

Then  other  lips  fell  upon  those  cold  and  trem 
bling  fingers,  which  seemed  to  warm  under  these 
embraces.  And  then  a  tear.  It  came  from  the 
hard  eye  of  Caroline,  and  remained  a  sacred  secret 
between  the  two. 


Problem  i  for  Violet  Strange       29 

"You  have  your  pendant?" 

Mr.  Driscoll's  suffering  eye  shone  down  on 
Violet  Strange' s  uplifted  face  as  she  advanced  to 
say  good-bye  preparatory  to  departure. 

"Yes,"  she  acknowledged,  "but  hardly,  I  fear, 
your  gratitude." 

And  the  answer  astonished  her. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  the  real  Alicia  will  not  make 
her  father  happier  than  the  unreal  one  has  ever 
done." 

"And  Captain  Holliday?" 

"  He  may  come  to  feel  the  same. " 

"Then  I  do  not  quit  in  disgrace?" 

"You  depart  with  my  thanks." 

When  a  certain  personage  was  told  of  the  success 
of  Miss  Strange's  latest  manoeuvre,  he  remarked : 

"The  little  one  progresses.  We  shall  have  to 
give  her  a  case  of  prime  importance  next. " 


END   OF   PROBLEM   I 


PROBLEM  II 

THE  SECOND  BULLET 

"  VOU  must  see  her." 
"No.     No:1 

"  She's  a  most  unhappy  woman.  Husband 
and  child  both  taken  from  her  in  a  moment;  and 
now,  all  means  of  living  as  well,  unless  some  happy 
thought  of  yours — some  inspiration  of  your  genius 
— shows  us  a  way  of  re-establishing  her  claims  to 
the  policy  voided  by  this  cry  of  suicide." 

But  the  small  wise  head  of  Violet  Strange 
continued  its  slow  shake  of  decided  refusal. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  protested,  "but  it's  quite  out 
of  my  province.  I'm  too  young  to  meddle  with 
so  serious  a  matter." 

"Not  when  you  can  save  a  bereaved  woman  the 
only  possible  compensation  left  her  by  untoward 
fate?" 

"Let  the  police  try  their  hand  at  that." 

"They  have  had  no  success  with  the  case." 

"Or  you?" 

30 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       31 

"  Nor  I  either." 

"And  you  expect " 

"Yes,  Miss  Strange.  I  expect  you  to  find  the 
missing  bullet  which  will  settle  the  fact  that  murder 
and  not  suicide  ended  George  Hammond's  life. 
If  you  cannot,  then  a  long  litigation  awaits  this 
poor  widow,  ending,  as  such  litigation  usually 
does,  in  favour  of  the  stronger  party.  There's 
the  alternative.  If  you  once  saw  her ; 

"But  that's  what  I'm  not  willing  to  do.  If  I 
once  saw  her  I  should  yield  to  her  importunities 
and  attempt  the  seemingly  impossible.  My  in 
stincts  bid  me  say  no.  Give  me  something  easier." 

"Easier  things  are  not  so  remunerative.  There's 
money  in  this  affair,  if  the  insurance  company  is 
forced  to  pay  up.  I  can  offer  you " 

"What?" 

There  was  eagerness  in  the  tone  despite  her 
effort  at  nonchalance.  The  other  smiled  im 
perceptibly,  and  briefly  named  the  sum. 

It  was  larger  than  she  had  expected.  This  her 
visitor  saw  by  the  way  her  eyelids  fell  and  the 
peculiar  stillness  which,  for  an  instant,  held  her 
vivacity  in  check. 

"And  you  think  I  can  earn  that?" 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  an  eagerness  as 
honest  as  it  was  unrestrained. 


32  The  Second  Bullet 

He  could  hardly  conceal  his  amazement,  her 
desire  was  so  evident  and  the  cause  of  it  so  difficult 
to  understand.  Pie  knew  she  wanted  money — 
that  was  her  avowed  reason  for  entering  into  this 
uncongenial  work.  But  to  want  it  so  much  I  He 
glanced  at  her  person ;  it  was  simply  clad  but  very 
expensively — how  expensively  it  was  his  business 
to  know.  Then  he  took  in  the  room  in  which  they 
sat.  Simplicity  again,  but  the  simplicity  of  high 
art — the  drawing-room  of  one  rich  enough  to 
indulge  in  the  final  luxury  of  a  highly  cultivated 
taste,  viz.:  unostentatious  elegance  and  the  sub 
jection  of  each  carefully  chosen  ornament  to 
the  general  effect. 

What  did  this  favoured  child  of  fortune  lack  that 
she  could  be  reached  by  such  a  plea,  when  her 
whole  being  revolted  from  the  nature  of  the  task  he 
offered  her?  It  was  a  question  not  new  to  him; 
but  one  he  had  never  heard  answered  and  was  not 
likely  to  hear  answered  now.  But  the  fact  re 
mained  that  the  consent  he  had  thought  dependent 
upon  sympathetic  interest  could  be  reached  much 
more  readily  by  the  promise  of  large  emolument, — 
and  he  owned  to  a  feeling  of  secret  disappointment 
even  while  he  recognized  the  value  of  the  dis 
covery. 

But  his  satisfaction  in  the  latter,  if  satisfaction  it 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       33 

were,  was  of  very  short  duration.  Almost  imme 
diately  he  observed  a  change  in  her.  The  sparkle 
which  had  shone  in  the  eye  whose  depths  he  had 
never  been  able  to  penetrate,  had  dissipated  itself 
in  something  like  a  tear  and  she  spoke  up  in  that 
vigorous  tone  no  one  but  himself  had  ever  heard, 
as  she  said: 

"No.  The  sum  is  a  good  one  and  I  could  use  it; 
but  I  will  not  waste  my  energy  on  a  case  I  do  not 
believe  in.  The  man  shot  himself.  He  was  a 
speculator,  and  probably  had  good  reason  for  his 
act.  Even  his  wife  acknowledges  that  he  has  lately 
had  more  losses  than  gains/' 

"See  her.  She  has  something  to  tell  you  which 
never  got  into  the  papers." 

"You  say  that?    You  know  that?" 

"On  my  honour,  Miss  Strange." 

Violet  pondered;  then  suddenly  succumbed. 

"Let  her  come,  then.  Prompt  to  the  hour.  I 
will  receive  her  at  three.  Later  I  have  a  tea 
and  two  party  calls  to  make." 

Her  visitor  rose  to  leave.  He  had  been  able 
to  subdue  all  evidence  of  his  extreme  gratification, 
and  now  took  on  a  formal  air.  In  dismissing  a 
guest,  Miss  Strange  was  invariably  the  society 
belle  and  that  only.  This  he  had  come  to 
recognize. 


34  The  Second  Bullet 

The  case  (well  known  at  the  time)  was,  in  the 
fewest  possible  words,  as  follows: 

On  a  sultry  night  in  September,  a  young  couple 
living  in  one  of  the  large  apartment  houses  in  the 
extreme  upper  portion  of  Manhattan  were  so 
annoyed  by  the  incessant  crying  of  a  child  in  the 
adjoining  suite,  that  they  got  up,  he  to  smoke, 
and  she  to  sit  in  the  window  for  a  possible  breath 
of  cool  air.  They  were  congratulating  themselves 
upon  the  wisdom  they  had  shown  in  thus  giving 
up  all  thought  of  sleep — for  the  child's  crying  had 
not  ceased — when  (it  may  have  been  two  o'clock 
and  it  may  have  been  a  little  later)  there  came  from 
somewhere  near,  the  sharp  and  somewhat  peculiar 
detonation  of  a  pistol-shot. 

He  thought  it  came  from  above;  she,  from  the 
rear,  and  they  were  staring  at  each  other  in  the 
helpless  wonder  of  the  moment,  when  they  were 
struck  by  the  silence.  The  baby  had  ceased  to 
cry.  All  was  as  still  in  the  adjoining  apartment 
as  in  their  own — too  still — much  too  still.  Their 
mutual  stare  turned  to  one  of  horror.  "It  came 
from  there!"  whispered  the  wife.  "Some  acci 
dent  has  occurred  to  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Hammond — we 
ought  to  go " 

Her  words — very  tremulous  ones — were  broken 
by  a  shout  from  below.  They  were  standing  in 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       35 

their  window  and  had  evidently  been  seen  by  a 
passing  policeman.  ' '  Anything  wrong  up  there  ? ' ' 
they  heard  him  cry.  Mr.  Saunders  immediately 
looked  out.  "Nothing  wrong  here,"  he  called 
down.  (They  were  but  two  stories  from  the 
pavement.)  "But  I'm  not  so  sure  about  the  rear 
apartment.  We  thought  we  heard  a  shot.  Had 
n't  you  better  come  up,  officer?  My  wife  is 
nervous  about  it.  I'll  meet  you  at  the  stair-head 
and  show  you  the  way." 

The  officer  nodded  and  stepped  in.  The  young 
couple  hastily  donned  some  wraps,  and,  by  the 
time  he  appeared  on  their  floor,  they  were  ready 
to  accompany  him. 

Meanwhile,  no  disturbance  was  apparent  any 
where  else  in  the  house,  until  the  policeman  rang 
the  bell  of  the  Hammond  apartment.  Then, 
voices  began  to  be  heard,  and  doors  to  open  above 
and  below,  but  not  the  one  before  which  the 
policeman  stood. 

Another  ring,  and  this  time  an  insistent  one ; — 
and  still  no  response.  The  officer's  hand  was  rising 
for  the  third  time  when  there  came  a  sound  of 
fluttering  from  behind  the  panels  against  which 
he  had  laid  his  ear,  and  finally  a  choked  voice 
uttering  unintelligible  words.  Then  a  hand 
began  to  struggle  with  the  lock,  and  the  door, 


36  The  Second  Bullet 

slowly  opening,  disclosed  a  woman  clad  in  a 
hastily  donned  wrapper  and  giving  every  evidence 
of  extreme  fright. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  seeing  only  the  com 
passionate  faces  of  her  neighbours.  "  You  heard  it, 
too!  a  pistol-shot  from  there — there — my  hus 
band's  room.  I  have  not  dared  to  go — I — I — O, 
have  mercy  and  see  if  anything  is  wrong!  It  is  so 
still — so  still,  and  only  a  moment  ago  the  baby 
was  crying.  Mrs.  Saunders,  Mrs.  Saunders,  why 
is  it  so  still?" 

She  had  fallen  into  her  neighbour's  arms.  The 
hand  with  which  she  had  pointed  out  a  certain 
door  had  sunk  to  her  side  and  she  appeared  to  be 
on  the  verge  of  collapse. 

The  officer  eyed  her  sternly,  while  noting  her 
appearance,  which  was  that  of  a  woman  hastily 
risen  from  bed. 

1 '  Where  were  you  ?  "  he  asked.  * '  Not  with  your 
husband  and  child,  or  you  would  know  what  had 
happened  there." 

"I  was  sleeping  down  the  hall, "  she  managed  to 
gasp  out.  "I'm  not  well — I — Oh,  why  do  you  all 
stand  still  and  do  nothing?  My  baby's  in  there.  Go ! 
go!"  and,  with  sudden  energy,  she  sprang  upright, 
her  eyes  wide  open  and  burning,  her  small  well- 
featured  face  white  as  the  linen  she  sought  to  hide. 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       37 

The  officer  demurred  no  longer.  In  another 
instant  he  was  trying  the  door  at  which  she 
was  again  pointing. 

It  was  locked. 

Glancing  back  at  the  woman,  now  cowering 
almost  to  the  floor,  he  pounded  at  the  door  and 
asked  the  man  inside  to  open. 

No  answer  came  back. 

With  a  sharp  turn  he  glanced  again  at  the 
wife. 

"You  say  that  your  husband  is  in  this  room?" 

She  nodded,  gasping  faintly,  "And  the  child!" 

He  turned  back,  listened,  then  beckoned  to 
Mr.  Saunders.  "We  shall  have  to  break  our  way 
in,"  said  he.  "Put  your  shoulder  well  to  the 
door.  Now!" 

The  hinges  of  the  door  creaked;  the  lock  gave 
way  (this  special  officer  weighed  two  hundred 
and  seventy-five,  as  he  found  out,  next  day),  and  a 
prolonged  and  sweeping  crash  told  the  rest. 

Mrs.  Hammond  gave  a  low  cry;  and,  straining 
forward  from  where  she  crouched  in  terror  on  the 
floor,  searched  the  faces  of  the  two  men  for  some 
hint  of  what  they  saw  in  the  dimly-lighted  space 
beyond. 

Something  dreadful,  something  which  made  Mr. 
Saunders  come  rushing  back  with  a  shout : 


38  The  Second  Bullet 

"Take  her  away!  Take  her  to  our  apartment, 
Jennie.  She  must  not  see " 

Not  see !  He  realized  the  futility  of  his  words  as 
his  gaze  fell  on  the  young  woman  who  had  risen  up 
at  his  approach  and  now  stood  gazing  at  him  with 
out  speech,  without  movement,  but  with  a  glare  of 
terror  in  her  eyes,  which  gave  him  his  first  realiza 
tion  of  human  misery. 

His  own  glance  fell  before  it.  If  he  had  followed 
his  instinct  he  would  have  fled  the  house  rather 
than  answer  the  question  of  her  look  and  the 
attitude  of  her  whole  frozen  body. 

Perhaps  in  mercy  to  his  speechless  terror,  per 
haps  in  mercy  to  herself,  she  was  the  one  who  at 
last  found  the  word  which  voiced  their  mutual 
anguish. 

"Dead?" 

No  answer.     None  was  needed. 

"And  my  baby ?" 

O,  that  cry!  It  curdled  the  hearts  of  all  who 
heard  it.  It  shook  the  souls  of  men  and  women 
both  inside  and  outside  the  apartment;  then  all 
was  forgotten  in  the  wild  rush  she  made.  The 
wife  and  mother  had  flung  herself  upon  the  scene, 
and,  side  by  side  with  the  not  unmoved  policeman, 
stood  looking  down  upon  the  desolation  made  in 
one  fatal  instant  in  her  home  and  heart. 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       39 

They  lay  there  together,  both  past  help,  both 
quite  dead.  The  child  had  simply  been  strangled 
by  the  weight  of  his  father's  arm  which  lay  directly 
across  the  upturned  little  throat.  But  the  father 
was  a  victim  of  the  shot  they  had  heard.  There 
was  blood  on  his  breast,  and  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 

Suicide!  The  horrible  truth  was  patent.  No 
wonder  they  wanted  to  hold  the  young  widow 
back.  Her  neighbour,  Mrs.  Saunders,  crept  in  on 
tiptoe  and  put  her  arms  about  the  swaying, 
fainting  woman;  but  there  was  nothing  to  say — 
absolutely  nothing. 

At  least,  they  thought  not.  But  when  they 
saw  her  throw  herself  down,  not  by  her  husband, 
but  by  the  child,  and  drag  it  out  from  under  that 
strangling  arm  and  hug  and  kiss  it  and  call  out 
wildly  for  a  doctor,  the  officer  endeavoured  to 
interfere  and  yet  could  not  find  the  heart  to  do 
so,  though  he  knew  the  child  was  dead  and  should 
not,  according  to  all  the  rules  of  the  coroner's  office, 
be  moved  before  that  official  arrived.  Yet 
because  no  mother  could  be  convinced  of  a  fact 
like  this,  he  let  her  sit  with  it  on  the  floor  and 
try  all  her  little  arts  to  revive  it,  while  he  gave 
orders  to  the  janitor  and  waited  himself  for  the 
arrival  of  doctor  and  coroner. 

She  was  still  sitting  there  in  wide-eyed  misery, 


40  The  Second  Bullet 

alternately  fondling  the  little  body  and  drawing 
back  to  consult  its  small  set  features  for  some  sign 
of  life,  when  the  doctor  came,  and,  after  one  look 
at  the  child,  drew  it  softly  from  her  arms  and  laid 
it  quietly  in  the  crib  from  which  its  father  had 
evidently  lifted  it  but  a  short  time  before.  Then 
he  turned  back  to  her,  and  found  her  on  her  feet, 
upheld  by  her  two  friends.  She  had  understood 
his  action,  and  without  a  groan  had  accepted  her 
fate.  Indeed,  she  seemed  incapable  of  any 
further  speech  or  action.  She  was  staring  down 
at  her  husband's  body,  which  she,  for  the  first 
time,  seemed  fully  to  see.  Was  her  look  one  of 
grief  or  of  resentment  for  the  part  he  had  played 
so  unintentionally  in  her  child's  death?  It  was 
hard  to  tell;  and  when,  with  slowly  rising  finger, 
she  pointed  to  the  pistol  so  tightly  clutched  in  the 
other  outstretched  hand,  no  one  there — and  by 
this  time  the  room  was  full — could  foretell  what 
her  words  would  be  when  her  tongue  regained  Hs 
usage  and  she  could  speak. 

What  she  did  say  was  this : 

"Is  there  a  bullet  gone?  Did  he  fire  off  that 
pistol?  "  A  question  so  manifestly  one  of  delirium 
that  no  one  answered  it,  which  seemed  to  surprise 
her,  though  she  said  nothing  till  her  glance  had 
passed  all  around  the  walls  of  the  room  to  where  a 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       41 

window  stood  open  to  the  night, — its  lower  sash 
being  entirely  raised.  "There!  look  there!"  she 
cried,  with  a  commanding  accent,  and,  throwing 
up  her  hands,  sank  a  dead  weight  into  the  arms 
of  those  supporting  her. 

No  one  understood ;  but  naturally  more  than  one 
rushed  to  the  window.  An  open  space  was  before 
them.  Here  lay  the  fields  not  yet  parcelled  out 
into  lots  and  built  upon ;  but  it  was  not  upon  these 
they  looked,  but  upon  the  strong  trellis  which 
they  found  there,  which,  if  it  supported  no  vine, 
formed  a  veritable  ladder  between  this  window 
and  the  ground. 

Could  she  have  meant  to  call  attention  to  this 
fact ;  and  were  her  words  expressive  of  another  idea 
than  the  obvious  one  of  suicide? 

If  so,  to  what  lengths  a  woman's  imagination  can 
go!  Or  so  their  combined  looks  seemed  to  pro 
claim,  when  to  their  utter  astonishment  they  saw 
the  officer,  who  had  presented  a  calm  appearance 
up  till  now,  shift  his  position  and  with  a  surprised 
grunt  direct  their  eyes  to  a  portion  of  the  wall 
just  visible  beyond  the  half-drawn  curtains  of 
the  bed.  The  mirror  hanging  there  showed 
a  star-shaped  breakage,  such  as  follows  the 
sharp  impact  of  a  bullet  or  a  fiercely  projected 
stone. 


42  The  Second  Bullet 

"He  fired  two  shots.  One  went  wild;  the  other 
straight  home." 

It  was  the  officer  delivering  his  opinion. 

Mr.  Saunders,  returning  from  the  distant  room 
where  he  had  assisted  in  carrying  Mrs.  Hammond, 
cast  a  look  at  the  shattered  glass,  and  remarked 
forcibly: 

"  I  heard  but  one;  and  I  was  sitting  up,  disturbed 
by  that  poor  infant.  Jennie,  did  you  hear  more 
than  one  shot?"  he  asked,  turning  toward  his  wife. 

"No, "  she  answered,  but  not  with  the  readiness 
he  had  evidently  expected.  "I  heard  only  one, 
but  that  was  not  quite  usual  in  its  tone.  I'm 
used  to  guns, "  she  explained,  turning  to  the  officer. 
"My  father  was  an  army  man,  and  he  taught  me 
very  early  to  load  and  fire  a  pistol.  There  was  a 
prolonged  sound  to  this  shot;  something  like  an 
echo  of  itself,  following  close  upon  the  first  ping. 
Didn't  you  notice  that,  Warren?" 

"I  remember  something  of  the  kind,"  her 
husband  allowed. 

"He  shot  twice  and  quickly,"  interposed  the 
policeman,  sententiously.  "We  shall  find  a  spent 
bullet  back  of  that  mirror." 

But  when,  upon  the  arrival  of  the  coroner,  an 
investigation  was  made  of  the  mirror  and  the  wall 
behind,  no  bullet  was  found  either  there  or  any- 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       43 

where  else  in  the  room,  save  in  the  dead  man's 
breast.  Nor  had  more  than  one  been  shot  from 
his  pistol,  as  five  full  chambers  testified.  The  case 
which  seemed  so  simple  had  its  mysteries,  but  the 
assertion  made  by  Mrs.  Saunders  no  longer  carried 
weight,  nor  was  the  evidence  offered  by  the  broken 
mirror  considered  as  indubitably  establishing  the 
fact  that  a  second  shot  had  been  fired  in  the  room. 

Yet  it  was  equally  evident  that  the  charge 
which  had  entered  the  dead  speculator's  breast 
had  not  been  delivered  at  the  close  range  of  the 
pistol  found  clutched  in  his  hand.  There  were  no 
powder-marks  to  be  discerned  on  his  pa  jama- 
jacket,  or  on  the  flesh  beneath.  Thus  anomaly  con 
fronted  anomaly,  leaving  open  but  one  other 
theory:  that  the  bullet  found  in  Mr.  Hammond's 
breast  came  from  the  window  and  the  one  he  shot 
went  out  of  it.  But  this  would  necessitate  his 
having  shot  his  pistol  from  a  point  far  removed 
from  where  he  was  found ;  and  his  wound  was  such 
as  made  it  difficult  to  believe  that  he  would  stagger 
far,  if  at  all,  after  its  infliction. 

Yet,  because  the  coroner  was  both  conscientious 
and  alert,  he  caused  a  most  rigorous  search  to  be 
made  of  the  ground  overlooked  by  the  above 
mentioned  window;  a  search  in  which  the  police 
joined,  but  which  was  without  any  result  save  that 


44  The  Second  Bullet 

of  rousing  the  attention  of  people  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  and  leading  to  a  story  being  circulated 
of  a  man  seen  some  time  the  night  before  crossing 
the  fields  in  a  great  hurry.  But  as  no  further 
particulars  were  forthcoming,  and  not  even  a 
description  of  the  man  to  be  had,  no  emphasis 
would  have  been  laid  upon  this  story  had  it  not 
transpired  that  the  moment  a  report  of  it  had 
come  to  Mrs.  Hammond's  ears  (why  is  there 
always  some  one  to  carry  these  reports?)  she 
roused  from  the  torpor  into  which  she  had  fallen, 
and  in  wild  fashion  exclaimed: 

"I  knew  it!  I  expected  it!  He  was  shot 
through  the  window  and  by  that  wretch.  He 
never  shot  himself. "  Violent  declarations  which 
trailed  off  into  the  one  continuous  wail,  "O,  my 
baby !  my  poor  baby ! " 

Such  words,  even  though  the  fruit  of  delirium, 
merited  some  sort  of  attention,  or  so  this  good 
coroner  thought,  and  as  soon  as  opportunity  offered 
and  she  was  sufficiently  sane  and  quiet  to  respond 
to  his  questions,  he  asked  her  whom  she  had 
meant  by  that  wretch,  and  what  reason  she  had,  or 
thought  she  had,  of  attributing  her  husband 's 
death  to  any  other  agency  than  his  own  disgust 
with  life. 

And  then  it  was  that  his  sympathies,  although 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       45 

greatly  roused  in  her  favour  began  to  wane.  She 
met  the  question  with  a  cold  stare  followed  by  a 
few  ambiguous  words  out  of  which  he  could  make 
nothing.  Had  she  said  wretch?  She  did  not 
remember.  They  must  not  be  influenced  by 
anything  she  might  have  uttered  in  her  first  grief. 
She  was  well-nigh  insane  at  the  time.  But  of  one 
thing  they  might  be  sure:  her  husband  had  not 
shot  himself;  he  was  too  much  afraid  of  death  for 
such  an  act.  Besides,  he  was  too  happy.  What 
ever  folks  might  say  he  was  too  fond  of  his  family 
to  wish  to  leave  it. 

Nor  did  the  coroner  or  any  other  official  succeed 
in  eliciting  anything  further  from  her.  Even 
when  she  was  asked,  with  cruel  insistence,  how  she 
explained  the  fact  that  the  baby  was  found  lying 
on  the  floor  instead  of  in  its  crib,  her  only  answer 
was:  "His  father  was  trying  to  soothe  it.  The 
child  was  crying  dreadfully,  as  you  have  heard 
from  those  who  were  kept  awake  by  him  that 
night,  and  my  husband  was  carrying  him  about 
when  the  shot  came  which  caused  George  to  fall 
and  overlay  the  baby  in  his  struggles." 

"Carrying  a  baby  about  with  a  loaded  pistol 
in  his  hand?"  came  back  in  stern  retort. 

She  had  no  answer  for  this.  She  admitted 
when  informed  that  the  bullet  extracted  from  her 


46  The  Second  Bullet 

husband's  body  had  been  found  to  correspond 
exactly  with  those  remaining  in  the  five  chambers 
of  the  pistol  taken  from  his  hand,  that  he  was 
not  only  the  owner  of  this  pistol  but  was  in  the 
habit  of  sleeping  with  it  under  his  pillow;  but, 
beyond  that,  nothing ;  and  this  reticence,  as  well  as 
her  manner  which  was  cold  and  repellent,  told 
against  her. 

A  verdict  of  suicide  was  rendered  by  the 
coroner's  jury,  and  the  life-insurance  company,  in 
which  Mr.  Hammond  had  but  lately  insured  him 
self  for  a  large  sum,  taking  advantage  of  the  suicide 
clause  embodied  in  the  policy,  announced  its 
determination  of  not  paying  the  same. 

Such  was  the  situation,  as  known  to  Violet 
Strange  and  the  general  public,  on  the  day  she 
was  asked  to  see  Mrs.  Hammond  and  learn  what 
might  alter  her  opinion  as  to  the  justice  of  this 
verdict  and  the  stand  taken  by  the  Shuler  Life 
Insurance  Company. 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  in  Miss  Strange 's 
rose-coloured  boudoir  had  struck  three,  and 
Violet  was  gazing  in  some  impatience  at  the 
door,  when  there  came  a  gentle  knock  upon  it, 
and  the  maid  (one  of  the  elderly,  not  youthful, 
kind)  ushered  in  her  expected  visitor. 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       47 

"You  are  Mrs.  Hammond?"  she  asked,  in 
natural  awe  of  the  too  black  figure  outlined  so 
sharply  against  the  deep  pink  of  the  sea-shell 
room. 

The  answer  was  a  slow  lifting  of  the  veil  which 
shadowed  the  features  she  knew  only  from  the 
cuts  she  had  seen  in  newspapers. 

"You  are — Miss  Strange?"  stammered  her 
visitor;  "the  young  lady  who 

"I  am,"  chimed  in  a  voice  as  ringing  as  it  was 
sweet.  "I  am  the  person  you  have  come  here  to 
see.  And  this  is  my  home.  But  that  does  not 
make  me  less  interested  in  the  unhappy,  or  less 
desirous  of  serving  them.  Certainly  you  have  met 
with  the  two  greatest  losses  which  can  come  to  a 
woman — I  know  your  story  well  enough  to  say 
that — ;  but  what  have  you  to  tell  me  in  proof  that 
you  should  not  lose  your  anticipated  income  as 
well?  Something  vital,  I  hope,  else  I  cannot  help 
you;  something  which  you  should  have  told  the 
coroner's  jury — and  did  not." 

The  flush  which  was  the  sole  answer  these  words 
called  forth  did  not  take  from  the  refinement  of 
the  young  widow's  expression,  but  rather  added 
to  it;  Violet  watched  it  in  its  ebb  and  flow  and, 
seriously  affected  by  it  (why,  she  did  not  know, 
for  Mrs.  Hammond  had  made  no  other  appeal 


48  The  Second  Bullet 

either  by  look  or  gesture),  pushed  forward  a  chair 
and  begged  her  visitor  to  be  seated. 

"We  can  converse  in  perfect  safety  here/*  she 
said.  "When  you  feel  quite  equal  to  it,  let  me 
hear  what  you  have  to  communicate.  It  will 
never  go  any  further.  I  could  not  do  the  work 
I  do  if  I  felt  it  necessary  to  have  a  confidant." 

"But  you  are  so  young  and  so — so " 

"So  inexperienced  you  would  say  and  so  evi 
dently  a  member  of  what  New  Yorkers  call 
1  society/  Do  not  let  that  trouble  you.  My 
inexperience  is  not  likely  to  last  long  and  my 
social  pleasures  are  more  apt  to  add  to  my 
efficiency  than  to  detract  from  it." 

With  this  Violet's  face  broke  into  a  smile.  It 
was  not  the  brilliant  one  so  often  seen  upon  her 
lips,  but  there  was  something  in  its  quality  which 
carried  encouragement  to  the  widow  and  led  her 
to  say  with  obvious  eagerness: 

"You  know  the  facts?" 

"I  have  read  all  the  papers." 

"I  was  not  believed  on  the  stand." 

"It  was  your  manner " 

"I  could  not  help  my  manner.  I  was  keeping 
something  back,  and,  being  unused  to  deceit, 
I  could  not  act  quite  naturally." 

"Why  did  you  keep  something  back?     When 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       49 


you  saw  the  unfavourable  impression  made  by 
your  reticence,  why  did  you  not  speak  up  and 
frankly  tell  your  story?" 

"Because  I  was  ashamed.  Because  I  thought 
it  would  hurt  me  more  to  speak  than  to  keep  silent. 
I  do  not  think  so  now;  but  I  did  then — and  so 
made  my  great  mistake.  You  must  remember  not 
only  the  awful  shock  of  my  double  loss,  but  the 
sense  of  guilt  accompanying  it;  for  my  husband 
and  I  had  quarrelled  that  night,  quarrelled  bitterly 
— that  was  why  I  had  run  away  into  another  room 
and  not  because  I  was  feeling  ill  and  impatient 
of  the  baby's  fretful  cries." 

"So  people  have  thought."  In  saying  this, 
Miss  Strange  was  perhaps  cruelly  emphatic. 
"You  wish  to  explain  that  quarrel?  You  think 
it  will  be  doing  any  good  to  your  cause  to  go  into 
that  matter  with  me  now?" 

"I  cannot  say;  but  I  must  first  clear  my  con 
science  and  then  try  to  convince  you  that  quarrel 
or  no  quarrel,  he  never  took  his  own  life.  He  was 
not  that  kind.  He  had  an  abnormal  fear  of  death. 
I  do  not  like  to  say  it  but  he  was  a  physical  coward. 
I  have  seen  him  turn  pale  at  the  least  hint  of 
danger.  He  could  no  more  have  turned  that 
muzzle  upon  his  own  breast  than  he  could  have 
turned  it  upon  his  baby.  Some  other  hand  shot 


50  The  Second  Bullet 

him,  Miss  Strange.  Remember  the  open  window, 
the  shattered  mirror;  and  /  think  I  know  that 
hand." 

Her  head  had  fallen  forward  on  her  breast. 
The  emotion  she  showed  was  not  so  eloquent  of 
grief  as  of  deep  personal  shame. 

"You  think  you  know  the  man?"  In  saying 
this,  Violet's  voice  sunk  to  a  whisper.  It  was  an 
accusation  of  murder  she  had  just  heard. 

"To  my  great  distress,  yes.  When  Mr.  Ham 
mond  and  I  were  married,"  the  widow  now  pro 
ceeded  in  a  more  determined  tone,  "there  was 
another  man — a  very  violent  one — who  vowed 
even  at  the  church  door  that  George  and  I  should 
never  live  out  two  full  years  together.  We  have 
not.  Our  second  anniversary  would  have  been 
in  November." 

"But " 

"Let  me  say  this:  the  quarrel  of  which  I  speak 
was  not  serious  enough  to  occasion  any  such  act 
of  despair  on  his  part.  A  man  would  be  mad  to 
end  his  life  on  account  of  so  slight  a  disagreement. 
It  was  not  even  on  account  of  the  person  of  whom 
I've  just  spoken,  though  that  person  had  been 
mentioned  between  us  earlier  in  the  evening,  Mr. 
Hammond  having  come  across  him  face  to  face 
that  very  afternoon  in  the  subway.  Up  to  this 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       51 

time  neither  of  us  had  seen  or  heard  of  him  since 
our  wedding-day." 

"And  you  think  this  person  whom  you  barely 
mentioned,  so  mindful  of  his  old  grudge  that  he 
sought  out  your  domicile,  and,  with  the  intention 
of  murder,  climbed  the  trellis  leading  to  your 
room  and  turned  his  pistol  upon  the  shadowy 
figure  which  was  all  he  could  see  in  the  semi- 
obscurity  of  a  much  lowered  gas-jet?" 

"A  man  in  the  dark  does  not  need  a  bright 
light  to  see  his  enemy  when  he  is  intent  upon 
revenge." 

Miss  Strange  altered  her  tone. 

"And  your  husband?  You  must  acknowledge 
that  he  shot  off  his  pistol  whether  the  other  did 
or  not." 

"It  was  in  self-defence.  He  would  shoot  to 
save  his  own  life — or  the  baby's." 

"Then  he  must  have  heard  or  seen " 

"A  man  at  the  window." 

"And  would  have  shot  there?  " 

"Or  tried  to." 

"Tried  to?" 

"Yes;  the  other  shot  first— oh,  I've  thought  it 
all  out — causing  my  husband's  bullet  to  go  wild. 
It  was  his  which  broke  the  mirror." 

Violet's  eyes,  bright  as  stars,  suddenly  narrowed. 


52  The  Second  Bullet 

1 '  And  what  happened  then  ? ' '  she  asked.  * '  Why 
cannot  they  find  the  bullet?" 

" Because  it  went  out  of  the  window; — glanced 
off  and  went  out  of  the  window." 

Mrs.  Hammond's  tone  was  triumphant;  her 
look  spirited  and  intense. 

Violet  eyed  her  compassionately. 

"  Would  a  bullet  glancing  off  from  a  mirror, 
however  hung,  be  apt  to  reach  a  window  so  far 
on  the  opposite  side?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  only  know  that  it  did,"  was 
the  contradictory,  almost  absurd,  reply. 

"What  was  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  you  speak 
of  between  your  husband  and  yourself?  You  see, 
I  must  know  the  exact  truth  and  all  the  truth  to 
be  of  any  assistance  to  you." 

"It  was — it  was  about  the  care  I  gave,  or 
didn't  give,  the  baby.  I  feel  awfully  to  have  to 
say  it,  but  George  did  not  think  I  did  my  full  duty 
by  the  child.  He  said  there  was  no  need  of  its 
crying  so;  that  if  I  gave  it  the  proper  attention  it 
would  not  keep  the  neighbours  and  himself  awake 
half  the  night.  And  I — I  got  angry  and  insisted 
that  I  did  the  best  I  could;  that  the  child  was 
naturally  fretful  and  that  if  he  wasn't  satisfied 
with  my  way  of  looking  after  it,  he  might  try 
his.  All  of  which  was  very  wrong  and  unreason- 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       53 

able  on  my  part,  as  witness  the  awful  punishment 
which  folio  wed." 

"And  what  made  you  get  up  and  leave  him?" 

"The  growl  he  gave  me  in  reply.  When  I 
heard  that,  I  bounded  out  of  bed  and  said  I  was 
going  to  the  spare  room  to  sleep;  and  if  the  baby 
cried  he  might  just  try  what  he  could  do  himself 
to  stop  it." 

"And  he  answered?" 

"This,  just  this — I  shall  never  forget  his  words 
as  long  as  I  live — 'If  you  go,  you  need  not  ex 
pect  me  to  let  you  in  again  no  matter  what 
happens.' ' 

"He  said  that?" 

"And  locked  the  door  after  me.  You  see  I 
could  not  tell  all  that." 

"It  might  have  been  better  if  you  had.  It 
was  such  a  natural  quarrel  and  so  unprovocative 
of  actual  tragedy." 

Mrs.  Hammond  was  silent.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  see  that  she  had  no  very  keen  regrets  for  her 
husband  personally.  But  then  he  was  not  a  very 
estimable  man  nor  in  any  respect  her  equal. 

"You  were  not  happy  with  him,  "  Violet 
ventured  to  remark. 

"I  was  not  a  fully  contented  woman.  But  for 
all  that  he  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  me  except 


54  The  Second  Bullet 

for  the  reason  I  have  mentioned.  I  was  not  a 
very  intelligent  mother.  But  if  the  baby  were 
living  now — O,  if  he  were  living  now — with  what 
devotion  I  should  care  for  him." 

She  was  on  her  feet,  her  arms  were  raised,  her 
face  impassioned  with  feeling.  Violet,  gazing  at 
her,  heaved  a  little  sigh.  It  was  perhaps  in  keep 
ing  with  the  situation,  perhaps  extraneous  to  it, 
but  whatever  its  source,  it  marked  a  change  in  her 
manner.  With  no  further  check  upon  her  sym 
pathy,  she  said  very  softly: 

"It  is  well  with  the  child." 

The  mother  stiffened,  swayed,  and  then  burst 
into  wild  weeping. 

"But  not  with  me,"  she  cried,  "not  with  me. 
I  am  desolate  and  bereft.  I  have  not  even  a 
home  in  which  to  hide  my  grief  and  no  prospect 
of  one." 

"But,"  interposed  Violet,  "surely  your  hus 
band  left  you  something?  You  cannot  be  quite 
penniless?" 

"My  husband  left  nothing,"  was  the  answer, 
uttered  without  bitterness,  but  with  all  the  hard 
ness  of  fact.  "He  had  debts.  I  shall  pay  those 
debts.  When  these  and  other  necessary  expenses 
are  liquidated,  there  will  be  but  little  left.  He 
made  no  secret  of  the  fact  that  he  lived  close  up 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       55 

to  his  means.  That  is  why  he  was  induced  to 
take  on  a  life  insurance.  Not  a  friend  of  his  but 
knows  his  improvidence.  I — I  have  not  even 
jewels.  I  have  only  my  determination  and  an 
absolute  conviction  as  to  the  real  nature  of  my 
husband's  death." 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  man  you  secretly 
believe  to  have  shot  your  husband  from  the 
trellis?" 

Mrs.  Hammond  told  her. 

It  was  a  new  one  to  Violet.  She  said  so  and 
then  asked : 

"What  else  can  you  tell  me  about  him?" 
"  Nothing,  but  that  he  is  a  very  dark  man  and 
has  a  club-foot. 

"Oh,  what  a  mistake  you've  made." 
"Mistake?     Yes,  I  acknowledge  that." 
"I  mean  in  not  giving  this  last  bit  of  informa 
tion  at  once  to  the  police.     A  man  can  be  identified 
by  such  a  defect.     Even   his  footsteps   can  be 
traced.     He  might  have  been  found  that  very 
day.     Now,  what  have  we  to  go  upon?" 

"You  are  right,  but  not  expecting  to  have  any 
difficulty  about  the  insurance  money  I  thought 
it  would  be  generous  in  me  to  keep  still.  Besides, 
this  is  only  surmise  on  my  part.  I  feel  certain 
that  my  husband  was  shot  by  another  hand  than 


56  The  Second  Bullet 

his  own,  but  I  know  of  no  way  of  proving  it.     Do 
you?" 

Then  Violet  talked  seriously  with  her,  explain 
ing  how  their  only  hope  lay  in  the  discovery  of 
a  second  bullet  in  the  room  which  had  already 
been  ransacked  for  this  very  purpose  and  without 
the  shadow  of  a  result. 

A  tea,  a  musicale,  and  an  evening  dance  kept 
Violet  Strange  in  a  whirl  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day.  No  brighter  eye  nor  more  contagious 
wit  lent  brilliance  to  these  occasions,  but  with 
the  passing  of  the  midnight  hour  no  one  who  had 
seen  her  in  the  blaze  of  electric  lights  would  have 
recognized  this  favoured  child  of  fortune  in  the 
earnest  figure  sitting  in  the  obscurity  of  an  up 
town  apartment,  studying  the  walls,  the  ceilings, 
and  the  floors  by  the  dim  light  of  a  lowered  gas- 
jet.  Violet  Strange  in  society  was  a  very  different 
person  from  Violet  Strange  under  the  tension  of 
her  secret  and  peculiar  work. 

She  had  told  them  at  home  that  she  was  going 
to  spend  the  night  with  a  friend ;  but  only  her  old 
coachman  knew  who  that  friend  was.  Therefore 
a  very  natural  sense  of  guilt  mingled  with  her 
emotions  at  finding  herself  alone  on  a  scene  whose 
gruesome  mystery  she  could  solve  only  by  identify- 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       57 

ing  herself  with  the  place  and  the  man  who  had 
perished  there. 

Dismissing  from  her  mind  all  thought  of  self, 
she  strove  to  think  as  he  thought,  and  act  as  he 
acted  on  the  night  when  he  found  himself  (a  man 
of  but  little  courage)  left  in  this  room  with  an 
ailing  child. 

At  odds  with  himself,  his  wife,  and  possibly 
with  the  child  screaming  away  in  its  crib,  what 
would  he  be  apt  to  do  in  his  present  emergency? 
Nothing  at  first,  but  as  the  screaming  continued  he 
would  remember  the  old  tales  of  fathers  walking 
the  floor  at  night  with  crying  babies,  and  hasten 
to  follow  suit.  Violet,  in  her  anxiety  to  reach  his 
inmost  thought,  crossed  to  where  the  crib  had 
stood,  and,  taking  that  as  a  start,  began  pacing 
the  room  in  search  of  the  spot  from  which  a  bullet, 
if  shot,  would  glance  aside  from  the  mirror  in  the 
direction  of  the  window.  (Not  that  she  was 
ready  to  accept  this  theory  of  Mrs.  Hammond, 
but  that  she  did  not  wish  to  entirely  dismiss  it 
without  putting  it  to  the  test.) 

She  found  it  in  an  unexpected  quarter  of  the 
room  and  much  nearer  the  bed-head  than  where 
his  body  was  found.  This,  which  might  seem 
to  confuse  matters,  served,  on  the  contrary  to 
remove  from  the  case  one  of  its  most  serious 


58  The  Second  Bullet 

difficulties.  Standing  here,  he  was  within  reach 
of  the  pillow  under  which  his  pistol  lay  hidden, 
and  if  startled,  as  his  wife  believed  him  to  have 
been  by  a  noise  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  had 
but  to  crouch  and  reach  behind  him  in  order  to 
find  himself  armed  and  ready  for  a  possible 
intruder. 

Imitating  his  action  in  this  as  in  other  things, 
she  had  herself  crouched  low  at  the  bedside  and 
was  on  the  point  of  withdrawing  her  hand  from 
under  the  pillow,  when  a  new  surprise  checked 
her  movement  and  held  her  fixed  in  her  position, 
with  eyes  staring  straight  at  the  adjoining  wall. 
She  had  seen  there  what  he  must  have  seen  in 
making  this  same  turn — the  dark  bars  of  the 
opposite  window-frame  outlined  in  the  mirror — 
and  understood  at  once  what  had  happened.  In 
the  nervousness  and  terror  of  the  moment,  George 
Hammond  had  mistaken  this  reflection  of  the 
window  for  the  window  itself,  and  shot  impulsively 
at  the  man  he  undoubtedly  saw  covering  him 
from  the  trellis  without.  But  while  this  explained 
the  shattering  of  the  mirror,  how  about  the  other 
and  still  more  vital  question,  of  where  the  bullet 
went  afterward?  Was  the  angle  at  which  it  had 
been  fired  acute  enough  to  send  it  out  of  a  window 
diagonally  opposed?  No;  even  if  the  pistol  had 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       59 

been  held  closer  to  the  man  firing  it  than  she  had 
reason  to  believe,  the  angle  still  would  be  oblique 
enough  to  carry  it  on  to  the  further  wall. 

But  no  sign  of  any  such  impact  had  been  dis 
covered  on  this  wall.  Consequently,  the  force 
of  the  bullet  had  been  expended  before  reaching 
it,  and  when  it  fell 

Here,  her  glance,  slowly  travelling  along  the 
floor,  impetuously  paused.  It  had  reached  the 
spot  where  the  two  bodies  had  been  found,  and 
unconsciously  her  eyes  rested  there,  conjuring 
up  the  picture  of  the  bleeding  father  and  the 
strangled  child.  How  piteous  and  how  dreadful 
it  all  was.  If  she  could  only  understand —  Sud 
denly  she  rose  straight  up,  staring  and  immovable 
in  the  dim  light.  Had  the  idea — the  explanation 
— the  only  possible  explanation  covering  the  whole 
phenomena  come  to  her  at  last? 

It  would  seem  so,  for  as  she  so  stood,  a  look  of 
conviction  settled  over  her  features,  and  with 
this  look,  evidences  of  a  horror  which  for  all  her 
fast  accumulating  knowledge  of  life  and  its 
possibilities  made  her  appear  very  small  and  very 
helpless. 

A  half -hour  later,  when  Mrs.  Hammond,  in  her 
anxiety  at  hearing  nothing  more  from  Miss 


6o  The  Second  Bullet 

Strange,  opened  the  door  of  her  room,  it  was  to  find, 
lying  on  the  edge  of  the  sill,  the  little  detective's 
card  with  these  words  hastily  written  across  it : 

I  do  not  feel  as  well  as  I  could  wish,  and  so  have 
telephoned  to  my  own  coachman  to  come  and  take 
me  home.  I  will  either  see  or  write  you  within  a  few 
days.  But  do  not  allow  yourself  to  hope.  I  pray  you 
do  not  allow  yourself  the  least  hope;  the  outcome  is 
still  very  problematical. 

When  Violet's  employer  entered  his  office  the 
next  morning  it  was  to  find  a  veiled  figure  awaiting 
him  which  he  at  once  recognized  as  that  of  his  little 
-deputy.  She  was  slow  in  lifting  her  veil  and  when 
it  finally  came  free  he  felt  a  momentary  doubt  as 
to  his  wisdom  in  giving  her  just  such  a  matter  as 
this  to  investigate.  He  was  quite  sure  of  his 
mistake  when  he  saw  her  face,  it  was  so  drawn 
and  pitiful. 

"You  have  failed,'*  said  he. 

"Of  that  you  must  judge,"  she  answered;  and 
drawing  near  she  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"No!"  he  cried  in  his  amazement. 

"Think,"  she  murmured,  "think.  Only  so  can 
all  the  facts  be  accounted  for." 

"  I  will  look  into  it ;  I  will  certainly  look  into  it," 
was  his  earnest  reply.  "If  you  are  right —  But 
never  mind  that.  Go  home  and  take  a  horseback 
ride  in  the  Park.  When  I  have  news  in  regard  to  this 


Problem  2  for  Violet  Strange       61 

I  will  let  you  know.     Till  then  forget  it  all.     Hear 
me,  I  charge  you  to  forget  everything  but  your 
balls  and  your  parties." 
And  Violet  obeyed  him. 

Some  few  days  after  this,  the  following  statement 
appeared  in  all  the  papers: 

"Owing  to  some  remarkable  work  done  by 
the  firm  of & ,  the  well-known  private  de 
tective  agency,  the  claim  made  by  Mrs.  George 
Hammond  against  the  Shuler  Life  Insurance 
Company  is  likely  to  be  allowed  without  further 
litigation.  As  our  readers  will  remember,  the 
contestant  has  insisted  from  the  first  that  the 
bullet  causing  her  husband's  death  came  from 
another  pistol  than  the  one  found  clutched  in  his 
own  hand.  But  while  reasons  were  not  lacking  to 
substantiate  this  assertion,  the  failure  to  discover 
more  than  the  disputed  track  of  a  second  bullet 
led  to  a  verdict  of  suicide,  and  a  refusal  of  the 
company  to  pay. 

"But  now  that  bullet  has  been  found.  And 
where?  In  the  most  startling  place  in  the  world, 
viz. :  in  the  larynx  of  the  child  found  lying  dead 
upon  the  floor  beside  his  father,  strangled  as  was 
supposed  by  the  weight  of  that  father's  arm.  The 
theory  is,  and  there  seems  to  be  none  other,  that  the 
father,  hearing  a  suspicious  noise  at  the  window, 
set  down  the  child  he  was  endeavouring  to  soothe 
and  made  for  the  bed  and  his  own  pistol,  and, 
mistaking  a  reflection  of  the  assassin  for  the  assas 
sin  himself,  sent  his  shot  sidewise  at  a  mirror  just 
as  the  other  let  go  the  trigger  which  drove  a 
similar  bullet  into  his  breast.  The  course  of  the 


62  The  Second  Bullet 

one  was  straight  and  fatal  and  that  of  the  other 
deflected.  Striking  the  mirror  at  an  oblique  angle, 
the  bullet  fell  to  the  floor  where  it  was  picked  up 
by  the  crawling  child,  and,  as  was  most  natural, 
thrust  at  once  into  his  mouth.  Perhaps  it  felt 
hot  to  the  little  tongue;  perhaps  the  child  was 
simply  frightened  by  some  convulsive  movement 
of  the  father  who  evidently  spent  his  last  moment 
in  an  endeavour  to  reach  the  child,  but,  whatever 
the  cause,  in  the  quick  gasp  it  gave,  the  bullet 
was  drawn  into  the  larynx,  strangling  him. 

"That  the  father's  arm,  in  his  last  struggle, 
should  have  fallen  directly  across  the  little  throat 
is  one  of  those  anomalies  which  confounds  reason 
and  misleads  justice  by  stopping  investigation 
at  the  very  point  where  truth  lies  and  mystery 
disappears. 

"Mrs.  Hammond  is  to  be  congratulated  that 
there  are  detectives  who  do  not  give  too  much 
credence  to  outward  appearances." 

We  expect  soon  to  hear  of  the  capture  of  the  man 
who  sped  home  the  death-dealing  bullet. 

END  OF  PROBLEM  II 


PROBLEM  III 

AN  INTANGIBLE  CLUE 

"TTAVE  you  studied  the  case?" 
"Not  I." 

"Not  studied  the  case  which  for  the  last  few 
days  has  provided  the  papers  with  such  conspicuous 
headlines?  " 

"I  do  not  read  the  papers.  I  have  not  looked 
at  one  in  a  whole  week." 

"Miss  Strange,  your  social  engagements  must 
be  of  a  very  pressing  nature  just  now?" 

"They  are." 

"And  your  business  sense  in  abeyance?" 

"How  so?" 

"You  would  not  ask  if  you  had  read  the  papers." 

To  this  she  made  no  reply  save  by  a  slight  toss 
of  her  pretty  head.  If  her  employer  felt  nettled  by 
this  show  of  indifference,  he  did  not  betray  it  save 
by  the  rapidity  of  his  tones  as,  without  further 
preamble  and  possibly  without  real  excuse,  he 
proceeded  to  lay  before  her  the  case  in  question. 

63 


64  An  Intangible  Clue 

"Last  Tuesday  night  a  woman  was  murdered  in 
this  city;  an  old  woman,  in  a  lonely  house  where 
she  has  lived  for  years.  Perhaps  you  remember 
this  house?  It  occupies  a  not  inconspicuous  site 
in  Seventeenth  Street — a  house  of  the  olden  time?  " 

"No,  I  do  not  remember.'' 

The  extreme  carelessness  of  Miss  Strange's  tone 
would  have  been  fatal  to  her  socially ;  but  then,  she 
would  never  have  used  it  socially.  This  they  both 
knew,  yet  he  smiled  with  his  customary  indulgence. 

"Then  I  will  describe  it." 

She  looked  around  for  a  chair  and  sank  into  it. 
He  did  the  same. 

"It  has  a  fanlight  over  the  front  door." 

She  remained  impassive. 

"And  two  old-fashioned  strips  of  parti-coloured 
glass  on  either  side." 

"And  a  knocker  between  its  panels  which  may 
bring  money  some  day." 

"Oh,  you  do  remember!  I  thought  you  would, 
Miss  Strange." 

"Yes.  Fanlights  over  doors  are  becoming  very 
rare  in  New  York." 

"Very  well,  then.  That  house  was  the  scene  of 
Tuesday's  tragedy.  The  woman  who  has  lived 
there  in  solitude  for  years  was  foully  murdered.  I 
have  since  heard  that  the  people  who  knew  her 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange      65 

best  have  always  anticipated  some  such  violent 
end  for  her.  She  never  allowed  maid  or  friend  to 
remain  with  her  after  five  in  the  afternoon;  yet 
she  had  money — some  think  a  great  deal — always 
in  the  house." 

"I  am  interested  in  the  house,  not  in  her." 
"Yet,  she  was  a  character — as  full  of  whims  and 
crotchets  as  a  nut  is  of  meat.  Her  death  was 
horrible.  She  fought — her  dress  was  torn  from 
her  body  in  rags.  This  happened,  you  see,  before 
her  hour  for  retiring;  some  think  as  early  as  six  in 
the  afternoon.  And" — here  he  made  a  rapid  ges 
ture  to  catch  Violet's  wandering  attention — "in 
spite  of  this  struggle;  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she 
was  dragged  from  room  to  room — that  her  person 
was  searched — and  everything  in  the  house 
searched — that  drawers  were  pulled  out  of  bureaus 
— doors  wrenched  off  of  cupboards — china  smashed 
upon  the  floor — whole  shelves  denuded  and  not 
a  spot  from  cellar  to  garret  left  unransacked,  no 
direct  clue  to  the  perpetrator  has  been  found — 
nothing  that  gives  any  idea  of  his  personality  save 
his  display  of  strength  and  great  cupidity.  The 
police  have  even  deigned  to  consult  me, — an 
unusual  procedure — but  I  could  find  nothing, 
either.  Evidences  of  fiendish  purpose  abound — 
of  relentless  search — but  no  clue  to  the  man  him- 


66  An  Intangible  Clue 

self.  It's  uncommon,  isn't  it,  not  to  have  any 
clue?" 

"I  suppose  so."  Miss  Strange  hated  murders 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  she  could  be  brought  to 
discuss  them.  But  she  was  not  going  to  be  let 
off;  not  this  time. 

"You  see,"  he  proceeded  insistently,  "it's  not 
only  mortifying  to  the  police  but  disappointing  to 
the  press,  especially  as  few  reporters  believe  in  the 
No-thoroughfare  business.  They  say,  and  we 
cannot  but  agree  with  them,  that  no  such  struggle 
could  take  place  and  no  such  repeated  goings  to 
and  fro  through  the  house  without  some  vestige 
being  left  by  which  to  connect  this  crime  with  its 
daring  perpetrator." 

Still  she  stared  down  at  her  hands — those  little 
hands  so  white  and  fluttering,  so  seemingly  help 
less  under  the  weight  of  their  many  rings,  and  yet 
so  slyly  capable. 

"She  must  have  queer  neighbours,"  came  at 
last,  from  Miss  Strange's  reluctant  lips.  "  Didn't 
they  hear  or  see  anything  of  all  this?" 

"She  has  no  neighbours — that  is,  after  half -past 
five  o'clock.  There's  a  printing  establishment  on 
one  side  of  her,  a  deserted  mansion  on  the  other 
side,  and  nothing  but  warehouses  back  and  front. 
There  was  no  one  to  notice  what  took  place  in  her 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       67 

small  dwelling  after  the  printing  house  was  closed. 
She  was  the  most  courageous  or  the  most  foolish 
of  women  to  remain  there  as  she  did.  But  nothing 
except  death  could  budge  her.  She  was  born  in 
the  room  where  she  died;  was  married  in  the  one 
where  she  worked;  saw  husband,  father,  mother, 
and  five  sisters  carried  out  in  turn  to  their  graves 
through  the  door  with  the  fanlight  over  the  top — 
and  these  memories  held  her." 

"You  are  trying  to  interest  me  in  the  woman. 
Don't." 

"No,  I'm  not  trying  to  interest  you  in  her,  only 
trying  to  explain  her.  There  was  another  reason 
for  her  remaining  where  she  did  so  long  after  all 
residents  had  left  the  block.  She  had  a  business." 

"Oh!" 

"She  embroidered  monograms  for  fine  ladies." 

"She  did?  But  you  needn't  look  at  me  like 
that.  She  never  embroidered  any  for  me." 

"No?  She  did  first-class  work.  I  saw  some  of 
it.  Miss  Strange,  if  I  could  get  you  into  that 
house  for  ten  minutes — not  to  see  her  but  to  pick 
up  the  loose  intangible  thread  which  I  am  sure  is 
floating  around  in  it  somewhere — wouldn't  you 
go?" 

Violet  slowly  rose — a  movement  which  he  fol 
lowed  to  the  letter. 


68  An  Intangible  Clue 

"  Must  I  express  in  words  the  limit  I  have  set  for 
myself  in  our  affair?"  she  asked.  "When,  for  rea 
sons  I  have  never  thought  myself  called  upon  to 
explain,  I  consented  to  help  you  a  little  now  and 
then  with  some  matter  where  a  woman's  tact  and 
knowledge  of  the  social  world  might  tell  without 
offence  to  herself  or  others,  I  never  thought  it 
would  be  necessary  for  me  to  state  that  temptation 
must  stop  with  such  cases,  or  that  I  should  not  be 
asked  to  touch  the  sordid  or  the  bloody.  But  it 
seems  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  I  must  stoop  to 
be  explicit.  The  woman  who  was  killed  on  Tues 
day  might  have  interested  me  greatly  as  an  em 
broiderer,  but  as  a  victim,  not  at  all.  What  do 
you  see  in  me,  or  miss  in  me,  that  you  should  drag 
me  into  an  atmosphere  of  low-down  crime?" 

11  Nothing,  Miss  Strange.  You  are  by  nature,  as 
well  as  by  breeding,  very  far  removed  from  every 
thing  of  the  kind.  But  you  will  allow  me  to  suggest 
that  no  crime  is  low-down  which  makes  imperative 
demand  upon  the  intellect  and  intuitive  sense  of  its 
investigator.  Only  the  most  delicate  touch  can 
feel  and  hold  the  thread  I've  just  spoken  of,  and 
you  have  the  most  delicate  touch  I  know." 

"Do  not  attempt  to  flatter  me.  I  have  no 
fancy  for  handling  befouled  spider  webs.  Besides, 
if  I  had — if  such  elusive  filaments  fascinated  me — - 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       69 

how  could  I,  well-known  in  person  and  name,  enter 
upon  such  a  scene  without  prejudice  to  our  mutual 
compact?'* 

"Miss  Strange" — she  had  reseated  herself,  but 
so  far  he  had  failed  to  follow  her  example  (an 
ignoring  of  the  subtle  hint  that  her  interest  might 
yet  be  caught,  which  seemed  to  annoy  her  a  trifle), 
"I  should  not  even  have  suggested  such  a  possi 
bility  had  I  not  seen  a  way  of  introducing  you  there 
without  risk  to  your  position  or  mine.  Among  the 
boxes  piled  upon  Mrs.  Doolittle's  table — boxes  of 
finished  work,  most  of  them  addressed  and  ready 
for  delivery — was  one  on  which  could  be  seen  the 
name  of — shall  I  mention  it?" 

"  Not  mine?  You  don't  mean  mine?  That  would 
be  too  odd — too  ridiculously  odd.  I  should  not 
understand  a  coincidence  of  that  kind ;  no,  I  should 
not,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  have  lately 
sent  out  such  work  to  be  done." 

"Yet  it  was  your  name,  very  clearly  and  pre 
cisely  written — your  whole  name,  Miss  Strange.  I 
saw  and  read  it  myself." 

"  But  I  gave  the  order  to  Madame  Pirot  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  How  came  my  things  to  be  found  in  the 
house  of  this  woman  of  whose  horrible  death  we 
have  been  talking?" 

"  Did  you  suppose  that  Madame  Pirot  did  such 


70  An  Intangible  Clue 

work  with  her  own  hands? — or  even  had  it  done  in 
her  own  establishment?  Mrs.  Doolittle  was  uni 
versally  employed.  She  worked  for  a  dozen 
firms.  You  will  find  the  biggest  names  on  most 
of  her  packages.  But  on  this  one — I  allude  to  the 
one  addressed  to  you — there  was  more  to  be  seen 
than  the  name.  These  words  were  written  on  it  in 
another  hand.  Send  without  opening.  This  struck 
the  police  as  suspicious ;  sufficiently  so,  at  least,  for 
them  to  desire  your  presence  at  the  house  as  soon 
as  you  can  make  it  convenient." 

"To  open  the  box?" 

"Exactly." 

The  curl  of  Miss  Strange's  disdainful  lip  was  a 
sight  to  see. 

"You  wrote  those  words  yourself,"  she  coolly 
observed.  "While  someone's  back  was  turned, 
you  whipped  out  your  pencil  and ' 

"Resorted  to  a  very  pardonable  subterfuge 
highly  conducive  to  the  public's  good.  But  never 
mind  that.  Will  you  go?" 

Miss  Strange  became  suddenly  demure. 

"I  suppose  I  must,"  she  grudgingly  conceded. 
"  However  obtained,  a  summons  from  the  police 
cannot  be  ignored  even  by  Peter  Strange's 
daughter." 

Another  man  might  have  displayed  his  triumph 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       71 

by  smile  or  gesture;  but  this  one  had  learned  his 
r61e  too  well.  He  simply  said: 

"Very  good.  Shall  it  be  at  once?  I  have  a 
taxi  at  the  door." 

But  she  failed  to  see  the  necessity  of  any  such 
hurry.  With  sudden  dignity  she  replied : 

"That  won't  do.  If  I  go  to  this  house  it  must 
be  under  suitable  conditions.  I  shall  have  to  ask 
my  brother  to  accompany  me." 

"Your  brother!" 

11  Oh,  he's  safe.     He— he  knows." 

"Your  brother  knows?"  Her  visitor,  with  less 
control  than  usual,  betrayed  very  openly  his 
uneasiness. 

"  He  does  and — approves.  But  that's  not  what 
interests  us  now,  only  so  far  as  it  makes  it  possible 
for  me  to  go  with  propriety  to  that  dreadful 
house." 

A  formal  bow  from  the  other  and  the  words : 

"They  may  expect  you,  then.  Can  you  say 
when?" 

"Within  the  next  hour.  But  it  will  be  a  useless 
concession  on  my  part, "  she  pettishly  complained. 
"A  place  that  has  been  gone  over  by  a  dozen 
detectives  is  apt  to  be  brushed  clean  of  its  cobwebs, 
even  if  such  ever  existed." 

"That's  the  difficulty,"  he  acknowledged;  and 


72  An  Intangible  Clue 

did  not  dare  to  add  another  word ;  she  was  at  that 
particular  moment  so  very  much  the  great  lady, 
and  so  little  his  confidential  agent. 

He  might  have  been  less  impressed,  however,  by 
this  sudden  assumption  of  manner,  had  he  been  so 
fortunate  as  to  have  seen  how  she  employed  the 
three  quarters  of  an  hour's  delay  for  which  she  had 
asked. 

She  read  those  neglected  newspapers,  especially 
the  one  containing  the  following  highly  coloured 
narration  of  this  ghastly  crime : 

"  A  door  ajar — an  empty  hall — a  line  of  sinister 
looking  blotches  marking  a  guilty  step  diagonally 
across  the  flagging — silence — and  an  unmistakable 
odour  repugnant  to  all  humanity, — such  were  the 
indications  which  met  the  eyes  of  Officer  O'Leary 
on  his  first  round  last  night,  and  led  to  the  discovery 
of  a  murder  which  will  long  thrill  the  city  by  its 
mystery  and  horror. 

"  Both  the  house  and  the  victim  are  well 
known."  Here  followed  a  description  of  the  same 
and  of  Mrs.  Doolittle's  manner  of  life  in  her 
ancient  home,  which  Violet  hurriedly  passed  over 
to  come  to  the  following: 

11  As  far  as  one  can  judge  from  appearances,  the 
crime  happened  in  this  wise:  Mrs.  Doolittle  had 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       73 

been  in  her  kitchen,  as  the  tea-kettle  found  singing 
on  the  stove  goes  to  prove,  and  was  coming  back 
through  her  bedroom,  when  the  wretch,  who  had 
stolen  in  by  the  front  door  which,  to  save  steps,  she 
was  unfortunately  in  the  habit  of  leaving  on  the 
latch  till  all  possibility  of  customers  for  the  day 
was  over,  sprang  upon  her  from  behind  and  dealt 
her  a  swinging  blow  with  the  poker  he  had  caught 
up  from  the  hearthstone. 

"  Whether  the  struggle  which  ensued  followed 
immediately  upon  this  first  attack  or  came  later, 
it  will  take  medical  experts  to  determine.  But, 
whenever  it  did  occur,  the  fierceness  of  its  character 
is  shown  by  the  grip  taken  upon  her  throat  and  the 
traces  of  blood  which  are  to  be  seen  all  over  the 
house.  If  the  wretch  had  lugged  her  into  her 
workroom  and  thence  to  the  kitchen,  and  thence 
back  to  the  spot  of  first  assault,  the  evidences 
could  not  have  been  more  ghastly.  Bits  of  her 
clothing  torn  off  by  a  ruthless  hand,  lay  scattered 
over  all  these  floors.  In  her  bedroom,  where  she 
finally  breathed  her  last,  there  could  be  seen 
mingled  with  these  a  number  of  large  but  worthless 
glass  beads;  and  close  against  one  of  the  base 
boards,  the  string  which  had  held  them,  as  shown 
by  the  few  remaining  beads  still  clinging  to  it. 
If  in  pulling  the  string  from  her  neck  he  had  hoped 


74  An  Intangible  Clue 

to  light  upon  some  valuable  booty,  his  fury  at  his 
disappointment  is  evident.  You  can  almost  see 
the  frenzy  with  which  he  flung  the  would-be  neck 
lace  at  the  wall,  and  kicked  about  and  stamped 
upon  its  rapidly  rolling  beads. 

"Booty!  That  was  what  he  was  after;  to  find 
and  carry  away  the  poor  needlewoman's  supposed 
hoardings.  If  the  scene  baffles  description — if, 
as  some  believe,  he  dragged  her  yet  living  from 
spot  to  spot,  demanding  information  as  to  her 
places  of  concealment  under  threat  of  repeated 
blows,  and,  finally  baffled,  dealt  the  finishing 
stroke  and  proceeded  on  the  search  alone,  no 
greater  devastation  could  have  taken  place  in  this 
poor  woman's  house  or  effects.  Yet  such  was  his 
precaution  and  care  for  himself  that  he  left  no 
finger-print  behind  him  nor  any  other  token  which 
could  lead  to  personal  identification.  Even  though 
his  footsteps  could  be  traced  in  much  the  order 
I  have  mentioned,  they  were  of  so  indeterminate 
and  shapeless  a  character  as  to  convey  little  to  the 
intelligence  of  the  investigator. 

"  That  these  smears  (they  could  not  be  called 
footprints)  not  only  crossed  the  hall  but  appeared 
in  more  than  one  place  on  the  staircase  proves 
that  he  did  not  confine  his  search  to  the  lower 
storey;  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most  interesting 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       75 

features  of  the  case  lies  in  the  indications  given 
by  these  marks  of  the  raging  course  he  took  through 
these  upper  rooms.  As  the  accompanying  dia 
gram  will  show  [we  omit  the  diagram]  he  went 
first  into  the  large  front  chamber,  thence  to  the 
rear  where  we  find  two  rooms,  one  unfinished  and 
filled  with  accumulated  stuff  most  of  which  he  left 
lying  loose  upon  the  floor,  and  the  other  plastered, 
and  containing  a  window  opening  upon  an  alley 
way  at  the  side,  but  empty  of  all  furniture  and 
without  even  a  carpet  on  the  bare  boards. 

"  Why  he  should  have  entered  the  latter  place, 
and  why,  having  entered  he  should  have  crossed  to 
the  window,  will  be  plain  to  those  who  have  studied 
the  conditions.  The  front  chamber  windows  were 
tightly  shuttered,  the  attic  ones  cumbered  with 
boxes  and  shielded  from  approach  by  old  bureaus 
and  discarded  chairs.  This  one  only  was  free  and, 
although  darkened  by  the  proximity  of  the  house 
neighbouring  it  across  the  alley,  was  the  only  spot 
on  the  storey  where  sufficient  light  could  be  had  at 
this  late  hour  for  the  examination  of  any  object  of 
whose  value  he  was  doubtful.  That  he  had  come 
across  such  an  object  and  had  brought  it  to  this 
window  for  some  such  purpose  is  very  satisfactorily 
demonstrated  by  the  discovery  of  a  worn  out 
wallet  of  ancient  make  lying  on  the  floor  directly 


76  An  Intangible  Clue 

in  front  of  this  window — a  proof  of  his  cupidity 
but  also  proof  of  his  ill-luck.  For  this  wallet,  when 
lifted  and  opened,  was  found  to  contain  two 
hundred  or  more  dollars  in  old  bills,  which,  if  not 
the  full  hoard  of  their  industrious  owner,  was 
certainly  worth  the  taking  by  one  who  had  risked 
his  neck  for  the  sole  purpose  of  theft. 

"This  wallet,  and  the  flight  of  the  murderer  with 
out  it,  give  to  this  affair,  otherwise  simply  brutal,  a 
dramatic  interest  which  will  be  appreciated  not 
only  by  the  very  able  detectives  already  hot  upon 
the  chase,  but  by  all  other  inquiring  minds  anxious 
to  solve  a  mystery  of  which  so  estimable  a  woman 
has  been  the  unfortunate  victim.  A  problem  is 
presented  to  the  police " 

There  Violet  stopped. 

When,  not  long  after,  the  superb  limousine  of 
Peter  Strange  stopped  before  the  little  house  in 
Seventeenth  Street,  it  caused  a  veritable  sensation, 
not  only  in  the  curiosity-mongers  lingering  on  the 
sidewalk,  but  to  the  two  persons  within — the 
officer  on  guard  and  a  belated  reporter. 

Though  dressed  in  her  plainest  suit,  Violet 
Strange  looked  much  too  fashionable  and  far  too 
young  and  thoughtless  to  be  observed,  without 
emotion,  entering  a  scene  of  hideous  and  brutal 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       77 

crime.  Even  the  young  man  who  accompanied  her 
promised  to  bring  a  most  incongruous  element  into 
this  atmosphere  of  guilt  and  horror,  and,  as  the 
detective  on  guard  whispered  to  the  man  beside 
him,  might  much  better  have  been  left  behind  in 
the  car. 

But  Violet  was  great  for  the  proprieties  and 
young  Arthur  followed  her  in. 

Her  entrance  was  a  coup  du  theatre.  She  had 
lifted  her  veil  in  crossing  the  sidewalk  and  her 
interesting  features  and  general  air  of  timidity 
were  very  fetching.  As  the  man  holding  open 
the  door  noted  the  impression  made  upon  his 
companion,  he  muttered  with  sly  facetiousness : 

"You  think  you'll  show  her  nothing;  but  I'm 
ready  to  bet  a  fiver  that  she'll  want  to  see  it  all 
and  that  you'll  show  it  to  her." 

The  detective's  grin  was  expressive,  notwith 
standing  the  shrug  with  which  he  tried  to  carry 
it  off. 

And  Violet?  The  hall  into  which  she  now 
stepped  from  the  most  vivid  sunlight  had  never 
been  considered  even  in  its  palmiest  days  as 
possessing  cheer  even  of  the  stately  kind.  The 
ghastly  green  light  infused  through  it  by  the 
coloured  glass  on  either  side  of  the  doorway 
seemed  to  promise  yet  more  dismal  things  beyond. 


78  An  Intangible  Clue 

"Must  I  go  in  there?"  she  asked,  pointing, 
with  an  admirable  simulation  of  nervous  excite 
ment,  to  a  half -shut  door  at  her  left.  "Is  there 
where  it  happened?  Arthur,  do  you  suppose 
that  there  is  where  it  happened?" 

"  No,  no,  Miss, "  the  officer  made  haste  to  assure 
her.  "If  you  are  Miss  Strange"  (Violet  bowed), 
"I  need  hardly  say  that  the  woman  was  struck  in 
her  bedroom.  The  door  beside  you  leads  into  the 
parlour,  or  as  she  would  have  called  it,  her  work 
room.  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  going  in  there. 
You  will  see  nothing  but  the  disorder  of  her  boxes. 
They  were  pretty  well  pulled  about.  Not  all  of 
them  though,  he  added,  watching  her  as  closely 
as  the  dim  light  permitted.  There  is  one  which 
gives  no  sign  of  having  been  tampered  with.  It 
was  done  up  in  wrapping  paper  and  is  addressed  to 
you,  which  in  itself  would  not  have  seemed  worthy 
of  our  attention  had  not  these  lines  been  scribbled 
on  it  in  a  man's  handwriting:  "Send  without 
opening." 

"How  odd!"  exclaimed  the  little  minx  with 
widely  opened  eyes  and  an  air  of  guileless  inno 
cence.  "What  ever  can  it  mean?  Nothing  serious 
I  am  sure,  for  the  woman  did  not  even  know  me. 
She  was  employed  to  do  this  work  by  Madame 
Pirot." 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       79 

"Didn't  you  know  that  it  was  to  be  done  here?" 

"No.  I  thought  Madame  Pirot's  own  girls  did 
her  embroidery  for  her." 

"So  that  you  were  surprised " 

"Wasn't  I!" 

"To  get  our  message." 

"I  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it." 

The  earnest,  half -injured  look  with  which  she 
uttered  this  disclaimer,  did  its  appointed  work. 
The  detective  accepted  her  for  what  she  seemed 
and,  oblivious  to  the  reporter's  satirical  gesture, 
crossed  to  the  work-room  door,  which  he  threw 
wide  open  with  the  remark: 

"I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  open  that  box 
in  our  presence.  It  is  undoubtedly  all  right,  but 
we  wish  to  be  sure.  You  know  what  the  box 
should  contain?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed;  pillow-cases  and  sheets,  with 
a  big  S  embroidered  on  them. 

"Very  well.     Shall  I  undo  the  string  for  you?" 

"I  shall  be  much  obliged,"  said  she,  her  eye 
flashing  quickly  about  the  room  before  settling 
down  upon  the  knot  he  was  deftly  loosening. 

Her  brother,  gazing  indifferently  in  from  the 
doorway,  hardly  noticed  this  look ;  but  the  reporter 
at  his  back  did,  though  he  failed  to  detect  its 
penetrating  quality. 


8o  An  Intangible  Clue 

"Your  name  is  on  the  other  side^ "  observed  the 
detective  as  he  drew  away  the  string  and  turned 
the  package  over. 

The  smile  which  just  lifted  the  corner  of  her 
lips  was  not  in  answer  to  this  remark,  but  to  her 
recognition  of  her  employer's  handwriting  in  the 
words  under  her  name:  Send  without  opening. 
She  had  not  misjudged  him. 

"The  cover  you  may  like  to  take  off  yourself," 
suggested  the  officer,  as  he  lifted  the  box  out  of 
its  wrapper. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind.  There's  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  in  embroidered  linen.  Or  perhaps 
that  is  not  what  you  are  looking  for?" 

No  one  answered.  All  were  busy  watching  her 
whip  off  the  lid  and  lift  out  the  pile  of  sheets  and 
pillow-cases  with  which  the  box  was  closely  packed. 

"Shall  I  unfold  them?"  she  asked. 

The  detective  nodded. 

Taking  out  the  topmost  sheet,  she  shook  it 
open.  Then  the  next  and  the  next  till  she  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  box.  Nothing  of  a  criminating 
nature  came  to  light.  The  box  as  well  as  its 
contents  was  without  mystery  of  any  kind.  This 
was  not  an  unexpected  result  of  course,  but  the 
smile  with  which  she  began  to  refold  the  pieces 
and  throw  them  back  into  the  box,  revealed  one 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange      81 

of  her  dimples  which  was  almost  as  dangerous  to 
the  casual  observer  as  when  it  revealed  both. 

" There, "  she  exclaimed,  "you  see!  Household 
linen  exactly  as  I  said.  Now  may  I  go  home?" 

"Certainly,  Miss  Strange." 

The  detective  stole  a  sly  glance  at  the  reporter. 
She  was  not  going  in  for  the  horrors  then  after  all. 

But  the  reporter  abated  nothing  of  his  knowing 
air,  for  while  she  spoke  of  going,  she  made  no  move 
towards  doing  so,  but  continued  to  look  about  the 
room  till  her  glances  finally  settled  on  a  long  dark 
curtain  shutting  off  an  adjoining  room. 

"There's  where  she  lies,  I  suppose,"  she  feelingly 
exclaimed.  ' '  And  not  one  of  you  knows  who  killed 
her.  Somehow,  I  cannot  understand  that.  Why 
don't  you  know  when  that's  what  you're  hired 
for?"  The  innocence  with  which  she  uttered  this 
was  astonishing.  The  detective  began  to  look 
sheepish  and  the  reporter  turned  aside  to  hide  his 
smile.  Whether  in  another  moment  either  would 
have  spoken  no  one  can  say,  for,  with  a  mock 
consciousness  of  having  said  something  foolish, 
she  caught  up  her  parasol  from  the  table  and  made 
a  start  for  the  door. 

But  of  course  she  looked  back. 

"I  was  wondering,"  she  recommenced,  with  a 
half  wistful,  half  speculative  air,  "whether  I 


82  An  Intangible  Clue 

should  ask  to  have  a  peep  at  the  place  where  it 
all  happened." 

The  reporter  chuckled  behind  the  pencil-end 
he  was  chewing,  but  the  officer  maintained  his 
solemn  air,  for  which  act  of  self-restraint  he  was 
undoubtedly  grateful  when  in  another  minute  she 
gave  a  quick  impulsive  shudder  not  altogether 
assumed,  and  vehemently  added :  "But  I  couldn't 
stand  the  sight;  no,  I  couldn't!  I'm  an  awful 
coward  when  it  comes  to  things  like  that.  Noth 
ing  in  all  the  world  would  induce  me  to  look  at 
the  woman  or  her  room.  But  I  should  like — " 
here  both  her  dimples  came  into  play  though 
she  could  not  be  said  exactly  to  smile — "just  one 
little  look  upstairs,  where  he  went  poking  about  so 
long  without  any  fear  it  seems  of  being  interrupted. 
Ever  since  I've  read  about  it  I  have  seen,  in  my 
mind,  a  picture  of  his  wicked  figure  sneaking  from 
room  to  room,  tearing  open  drawers  and  flinging 
out  the  contents  of  closets  just  to  find  a  little 
money — a  little,  little  money!  I  shall  not  sleep 
to-night  just  for  wondering  how  those  high  up 
attic  rooms  really  look." 

Who  could  dream  that  back  of  this  display  of 
mingled  childishness  and  audacity  there  lay  hid 
den  purpose,  intellect,  and  a  keen  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  Not  the  two  men  who  listened 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       83 

to  this  seemingly  irresponsible  chatter.  To  them 
she  was  a  child  to  be  humoured  and  humour  her 
they  did.  The  dainty  feet  which  had  already 
found  their  way  to  that  gloomy  staircase  were 
allowed  to  ascend,  followed  it  is  true  by  those  of 
the  officer  who  did  not  dare  to  smile  back  at  the 
reporter  because  of  the  brother's  watchful  and 
none  too  conciliatory  eye. 

At  the  stair  head  she  paused  to  look  back. 

"I  don't  see  those  horrible  marks  which  the 
papers  describe  as  running  all  along  the  lower 
hall  and  up  these  stairs." 

"No,  Miss  Strange;  they  have  gradually  been 
rubbed  out,  but  you  will  find  some  still  showing  on 
these  upper  floors." 

"Oh!  oh!  where?  You  frighten  me — frighten 
me  horribly!  But — but — if  you  don't  mind,  I 
should  like  to  see." 

Why  should  not  a  man  on  a  tedious  job  amuse 
himself?  Piloting  her  over  to  the  small  room  in 
the  rear,  he  pointed  down  at  the  boards.  She 
gave  one  look  and  then  stepped  gingerly  in. 

"Just  look!"  she  cried;  "a  whole  string  of 
marks  going  straight  from  door  to  window.  They 
have  no  shape,  have  they, — just  blotches?  I 
wonder  why  one  of  them  is  so  much  larger  than 
the  rest?" 


84  An  Intangible  Clue 

This  was  no  new  question.  It  was  one  which 
everybody  who  went  into  the  room  was  sure  to 
ask,  there  was  such  a  difference  in  the  size  and 
appearance  of  the  mark  nearest  the  window.  The 
reason — well,  minds  were  divided  about  that,  and 
no  one  had  a  satisfactory  theory.  The  detective 
therefore  kept  discreetly  silent. 

This  did  not  seem  to  offend  Miss  Strange. 
On  the  contrary  it  gave  her  an  opportunity  to 
babble  away  to  her  heart's  content. 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,"  she  counted, 
with  a  shudder  at  every  count.  "And  one  of 
them  bigger  than  the  others."  She  might  have 
added,  "It  is  the  trail  of  one  foot,  and  strangely 
intermingled  at  that,"  but  she  did  not,  though 
we  may  be  quite  sure  that  she  noted  the  fact. 
"And  where,  just  where  did  the  old  wallet  fall? 
Here?  at  here?" 

She  had  moved  as  she  spoke,  so  that  in  uttering 
the  last  "here,"  she  stood  directly  before  the 
window.  The  surprise  she  received  there  nearly 
made  her  forget  the  part  she  was  playing.  From 
the  character  of  the  light  in  the  room,  she  had 
expected,  on  looking  out,  to  confront  a  near-by 
wall,  but  not  a  window  in  that  wall.  Yet  that 
was  what  she  saw  directly  facing  her  from  across 
the  old-fashioned  alley  separating  this  house  from 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       85 

its  neighbour ;  twelve  unshuttered  and  uncurtained 
panes  through  which  she  caught  a  darkened  view 
of  a  room  almost  as  forlorn  and  devoid  of  furniture 
as  the  one  in  which  she  then  stood. 

When  quite  sure  of  herself,  she  let  a  certain 
portion  of  her  surprise  appear. 

"Why,  look!"  she  cried,  "if  you  can't  see  right 
in  next  door!  What  a  lonesome-looking  place! 
From  its  desolate  appearance  I  should  think  the 
house  quite  empty." 

"And  it  is.  That's  the  old  Shaffer  homestead. 
It's  been  empty  for  a  year." 

"Oh,  empty!"  And  she  turned  away,  with  the 
most  inconsequent  air  in  the  world,  crying  out  as 
her  name  rang  up  the  stair,  "There's  Arthur  call 
ing.  I  suppose  he  thinks  I've  been  here  long 
enough.  I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you, 
officer.  I  really  shouldn't  have  slept  a  wink  to 
night,  if  I  hadn't  been  given  a  peep  at  these  rooms, 
which  I  had  imagined  so  different."  And  with  one 
additional  glance  over  her  shoulder,  that  seemed 
to  penetrate  both  windows  and  the  desolate  space 
beyond,  she  ran  quickly  out  and  down  in  response 
to  her  brother's  reiterated  call. 

"  Drive  quickly ! — as  quickly  as  the  law  allows, 
to  Hiram  Brown's  office  in  Duane  Street." 


86  An  Intangible  Clue 


Arrived  at  the  address  named,  she  went  in 
alone  to  see  Mr.  Brown.  He  was  her  father's 
lawyer  and  a  family  friend. 

Hardly  waiting  for  his  affectionate  greeting, 
she  cried  out  quickly.  "Tell  me  how  I  can  learn 
anything  about  the  old  Shaffer  house  in  Seven 
teenth  Street.  Now,  don't  look  so  surprised.  I 
have  very  good  reasons  for  my  request  and — and — 
I'm  in  an  awful  hurry." 

"But " 

"I  know,  I  know;  there's  been  a  dreadful 
tragedy  next  door  to  it;  but  it's  about  the  Shaffer 
house  itself  I  want  some  information.  Has  it 
an  agent,  a ' 

"Of  course  it  has  an  agent,  and  here  is  his 
name." 

Mr.  Brown  presented  her  with  a  card  on  which 
he  had  hastily  written  both  name  and  address. 

She  thanked  him,  dropped  him  a  mocking 
curtsey  full  of  charm,  whispered  "Don't  tell 
father,"  and  was  gone. 

Her  manner  to  the  man  she  next  interviewed 
was  very  different.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  she 
subsided  into  her  usual  society  manner.  With  just 
a  touch  of  the  conceit  of  the  successful  debutante, 
she  announced  herself  as  Miss  Strange  of  Seventy- 
second  Street.  Her  business  with  him  was  in 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       87 

regard  to  the  possible  renting  of  the  Shaffer  house. 
She  had  an  old  lady  friend  who  was  desirous  of 
living  downtown. 

In  passing  through  Seventeenth  Street,  she  had 
noticed  that  the  old  Shaffer  house  was  standing 
empty  and  had  been  immediately  struck  with  the 
advantages  it  possessed  for  her  elderly  friend's 
occupancy.  Could  it  be  that  the  house  was  for 
rent?  There  was  no  sign  on  it  to  that  effect, 
but — etc. 

His  answer  left  her  nothing  to  hope  for. 

"It  is  going  to  be  torn  down,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  what  a  pity!"  she  exclaimed.  "Real 
colonial,  isn't  it!  I  wish  I  could  see  the  rooms 
inside  before  it  is  disturbed.  Such  doors  and 
such  dear  old-fashioned  mantelpieces  as  it  must 
have!  I  just  dote  on  the  Colonial.  It  brings  up 
such  pictures  of  the  old  days;  weddings,  you  know, 
and  parties; — all  so  different  from  ours  and  so 
much  more  interesting." 

Is  it  the  chance  shot  that  tells?  Sometimes. 
Violet  had  no  especial  intention  in  what  she  said 
save  as  a  prelude  to  a  pending  request,  but  nothing 
could  have  served  her  purpose  better  than  that 
one  word,  wedding.  The  agent  laughed  and  giving 
her  his  first  indulgent  look,  remarked  genially: 

"Romance   is   not    confined    to   those   ancient 


88  An  Intangible  Clue 

times.  If  you  were  to  enter  that  house  to-day 
you  would  come  across  evidences  of  a  wedding  as 
romantic  as  any  which  ever  took  place  in  all  the 
seventy  odd  years  of  its  existence.  A  man  and 
a  woman  were  married  there  day  before  yesterday 
who  did  their  first  courting  under  its  roof  forty 
years  ago.  He  has  been  married  twice  and  she 
once  in  the  interval ;  but  the  old  love  held  firm  and 
now  at  the  age  of  sixty  and  over  they  have  come 
together  to  finish  their  days  in  peace  and  happiness. 
Or  so  we  will  hope." 

"Married!  married  in  that  house  and  on  the 
day  that " 

She  caught  herself  up  in  time.  He  did  not 
notice  the  break. 

"Yes,  in  memory  of  those  old  days  of  court 
ship,  I  suppose.  They  came  here  about  five, 
got  the  keys,  drove  off,  went  through  the  cere 
mony  in  that  empty  house,  returned  the  keys  to 
me  in  my  own  apartment,  took  the  steamer  for 
Naples,  and  were  on  the  sea  before  midnight. 
Do  you  not  call  that  quick  work  as  well  as  highly 
romantic?" 

"Very."  Miss  Strange's  cheek  had  paled. 
It  was  apt  to  when  she  was  greatly  excited.  "But 
I  don't  understand,"  she  added,  the  moment 
after.  "How  could  they  do  this  and  nobody  know 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       89 

about  it?  I  should  have  thought  it  would  have 
got  into  the  papers." 

"They  are  quiet  people.  I  don't  think  they 
told  their  best  friends.  A  simple  announcement 
in  the  next  day's  journals  testified  to  the  fact  of 
their  marriage,  but  that  was  all.  I  would  not 
have  felt  at  liberty  to  mention  the  circumstances 
myself,  if  the  parties  were  not  well  on  their  way  to 
Europe." 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  did  tell  me! 
Such  a  story  of  constancy  and  the  hold  which 
old  associations  have  upon  sensitive  minds! 
But " 

"Why,  Miss?  What's  the  matter?  You  look 
very  much  disturbed." 

"  Don't  you  remember?  Haven't  you  thought? 
Something  else  happened  that  very  day  and  almost 
at  the  same  time  on  that  block.  Something  very 
dreadful " 

"Mrs.  Doolittle's  murder?" 

"Yes.  It  was  as  near  as  next  door,  wasn't  it? 
Oh,  if  this  happy  couple  had  known ' 

"But  fortunately  they  didn't.  Nor  are  they 
likely  to,  till  they  reach  the  other  side.  You 
needn't  fear  that  their  honeymoon  will  be  spoiled 
that  way." 

"But  they  may  have  heard  something  or  seen 


90  An  Intangible  Clue 

something  before  leaving  the  street.  Did  you 
notice  how  the  gentleman  looked  when  he  returned 
you  the  keys?" 

"I  did,  and  there  was  no  cloud  on  his  satis- 
f action." 

"Oh,  how  you  relieve  me!"  One — two  dimples 
made  their  appearance  in  Miss  Strange's  fresh, 
young  cheeks.  "Well!  I  wish  them  joy.  Do 
you  mind  telling  me  their  names?  I  cannot  think 
of  them  as  actual  persons  without  knowing  their 


names." 


"The  gentleman  was  Const  an  tin  Amidon;  the 
lady,  Marian  Shaffer.  You  will  have  to  think 
of  them  now  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Amidon." 

"And  I  will.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hutton,  thank 
you  very  much.  Next  to  the  pleasure  of  getting 
the  house  for  my  friend,  is  that  of  hearing  this 
charming  bit  of  news  in  its  connection." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and,  as  he  took  it, 
remarked : 

"They  must  have  had  a  clergyman  and  wit 


nesses." 


"Undoubtedly." 

"I  wish  I  had  been  one  of  the  witnesses,"  she 
sighed  sentimentally. 

"They  were  two  old  men." 
"Oh,  no!     Don't  tell  me  that." 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       91 

"Fogies;  nothing  less." 

"But  the  clergyman?  He  must  have  been 
young.  Surely  there  was  some  one  there  capable 
of  appreciating  the  situation?" 

"I  can't  say  about  that;  I  did  not  see  the 
clergyman." 

"Oh,  well!  it  doesn't  matter."  Miss  Strange's 
manner  was  as  nonchalant  as  it  was  charming. 
"We  will  think  of  him  as  being  very  young." 

And  with  a  merry  toss  of  her  head  she  flitted 
away. 

But  she  sobered  very  rapidly  upon  entering 
her  limousine. 

"Hello!" 

"Ah,  is  that  you?" 

"Yes,  I  want  a  Marconi  sent." 

"A  Marconi?" 

"Yes,  to  the  Cretic,  which  left  dock  the  very 
night  in  which  we  are  so  deeply  interested." 

"Good.     Whom  to?     The  Captain?" 

"No,  to  a  Mrs.  Constantin  Amidon.  But  first 
be  sure  there  is  such  a  passenger." 

"Mrs.  I    What  idea  have  you  there?" 

"Excuse  my  not  stating  over  the  telephone. 
The  message  is  to  be  to  this  effect.  Did  she  at  any 
time  immediately  before  or  after  her  marriage 


92  An  Intangible  Clue 

to  Mr.  Amidon  get  a  glimpse  of  any  one  in  the 
adjoining  house?  No  remarks,  please.  I  use  the 
telephone  because  I  am  not  ready  to  explain  my 
self.  If  she  did,  let  her  send  a  written  description 
to  you  of  that  person  as  soon  as  she  reaches  the 
Azores.'* 

"You  surprise  me.     May   I  not  call  or  hope 
for  a  line  from  you  early  to-morrow?" 

"I  shall  be  busy  till  you  get  your  answer." 
He  hung  up  the  receiver.     He  recognized  the 
resolute  tone. 

But  the  time  came  when  the  pending  explanation 
was  fully  given  to  him.  An  answer  had  been 
returned  from  the  steamer,  favourable  to  Violet's 
hopes.  Mrs.  Amidon  had  seen  such  a  person  and 
would  send  a  full  description  of  the  same  at  the 
first  opportunity.  It  was  news  to  fill  Violet's 
heart  with  pride ;  the  filament  of  a  clue  which  had 
led  to  this  great  result  had  been  so  nearly  invisible 
and  had  felt  so  like  nothing  in  her  grasp. 
To  her  employer  she  described  it  as  follows : 
"When  I  hear  or  read  of  a  case  which  contains 
any  baffling  features,  I  am  apt  to  feel  some  hidden 
chord  in  my  nature  thrill  to  one  fact  in  it  and 
not  to  any  of  the  others.  In  this  case  the  single 
fact  which  appealed  to  my  imagination  was  the 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       93 

dropping  of  the  stolen  wallet  in  that  upstairs  room. 
Why  did  the  guilty  man  drop  it?  and  why,  having 
dropped  it,  did  he  not  pick  it  up  again?  But  one 
answer  seemed  possible.  He  had  heard  or  seen 
something  at  the  spot  where  it  fell  which  not  only 
alarmed  him  but  sent  him  in  flight  from  the  house." 

"Very  good;  and  did  you  settle  to  your  own 
mind  the  nature  of  that  sound  or  that  sight?" 

"I  did."  Her  manner  was  strangely  business 
like.  No  show  of  dimples  now.  "Satisfied  that 
if  any  possibility  remained  of  my  ever  doing  this, 
it  would  have  to  be  on  the  exact  place  of  this 
occurrence  or  not  at  all,  I  embraced  your  sugges 
tion  and  visited  the  house." 

"And  that  room  no  doubt." 

"And  that  room.  Women,  somehow,  seem  to 
manage  such  things." 

"So  I've  noticed,  Miss  Strange.  And  what 
was  the  result  of  your  visit?  What  did  you  dis 
cover  there?" 

"This:  that  one  of  the  blood  spots  marking 
the  criminal's  steps  through  the  room  was  de 
cidedly  more  pronounced  than  the  rest;  and,  what 
was  even  more  important,  that  the  window  out  of 
which  I  was  looking  had  its  counterpart  in  the 
house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  alley.  In  gazing 
through  the  one  I  was  gazing  through  the  other; 


94  An  Intangible  Clue 

and  not  only  that,  but  into  the  darkened  area  of 
the  room  beyond.  Instantly  I  saw  how  the  latter 
fact  might  be  made  to  explain  the  former  one. 
But  before  I  say  how,  let  me  ask  if  it  is  quite 
settled  among  you  that  the  smears  on  the  floor 
and  stairs  mark  the  passage  of  the  criminal's 
footsteps!" 

''Certainly;  and  very  bloody  feet  they  must 
have  been  too.  His  shoes — or  rather  his  one  shoe 
—for  the  proof  is  plain  that  only  the  right  one  left 
its  mark — must  have  become  thoroughly  satu 
rated  to  carry  its  traces  so  far." 

"Do  you  think  that  any  amount  of  saturation 
would  have  done  this?  Or,  if  you  are  not  ready 
to  agree  to  that,  that  a  shoe  so  covered  with  blood 
could  have  failed  to  leave  behind  it  some  hint  of 
its  shape,  some  imprint,  however  faint,  of  heel  or 
toe?  But  nowhere  did  it  do  this.  We  see  a 
smear — and  that  is  all." 

"You  are  right,  Miss  Strange;  you  are  always 
right.  And  what  do  you  gather  from  this?" 

She  looked  to  see  how  much  he  expected  from 
her,  and,  meeting  an  eye  not  quite  as  free  from  all 
ironic  suggestion  as  his  words  had  led  her  to 
expect,  faltered  a  little  as  she  proceeded  to  say: 

"My  opinion  is  a  girl's  opinion,  but  such  as 
it  is  you  have  the  right  to  have  it.  From  the  indi- 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       93 

cations  mentioned  I  could  draw  but  this  conclu 
sion:  that  the  blood  which  accompanied  the 
criminal's  footsteps  was  not  carried  through  the 
house  by  his  shoes ; — he  wore  no  shoes ;  he  did  not 
even  wear  stockings;  probably  he  had  none.  For 
reasons  which  appealed  to  his  judgment,  he  went 
about  his  wicked  work  barefoot;  and  it  was  the 
blood  from  his  own  veins  and  not  from  those  of  his 
victim  which  made  the  trail  we  have  followed 
with  so  much  interest.  Do  you  forget  those 
%  broken  beads; — how  he  kicked  them  about  and 
stamped  upon  them  in  his  fury?  One  of  them 
pierced  the  ball  of  his  foot,  and  that  so  sharply 
that  it  not  only  spurted  blood  but  kept  on  bleeding 
with  every  step  he  took.  Otherwise,  the  trail 
would  have  been  lost  after  his  passage  up  the 
stairs." 

"Fine!"  There  was  no  irony  in  the  bureau- 
chief's  eye  now.  "You  are  progressing,  Miss 
Strange.  Allow  me,  I  pray,  to  kiss  your  hand. 
It  is  a  liberty  I  have  never  taken,  but  one  which 
would  greatly  relieve  my  present  stress  of  feeling." 

She  lifted  her  hand  toward  him,  but  it  was  in 
gesture,  not  in  recognition  of  his  homage. 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  "but  I  claim  no 
monopoly  on  Seductions  so  simple  as  these.  I 
have  not  the  least  doubt  that  not  only  yourself 


96  An  Intangible  Clue 

but  every  member  of  the  force  has  made  the  same. 
But  there  is  a  little  matter  which  may  have  escaped 
the  police,  may  even  have  escaped  you.  To  that 
I  would  now  call  your  attention  since  through  it  I 
have  been  enabled,  after  a  little  necessary  groping, 
to  reach  the  open.  You  remember  the  one  large 
blotch  on  the  upper  floor  where  the  man  dropped 
the  wallet?  That  blotch,  more  or  less  commingled 
with  a  fainter  one,  possessed  great  significance  for 
me  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  it.  How  came 
his  foot  to  bleed  so  much  more  profusely  at  that 
one  spot  than  at  any  other?  There  could  be  but 
one  answer:  because  here  a  surprise  met  him — a 
surprise  so  startling  to  him  in  his  present  state  of 
mind,  that  he  gave  a  quick  spring  backward,  with 
the  result  that  his  wounded  foot  came  down  sud 
denly  and  forcibly  instead  of  easily  as  in  his  pre 
vious  wary  tread.  And  what  was  the  surprise?  I 
made  it  my  business  to  find  out,  and  now  I  can  tell 
you  that  it  was  the  sight  of  a  woman's  face  staring 
upon  him  from  the  neighbouring  house  which  he 
had  probably  been  told  was  empty.  The  shock 
disturbed  his  judgment.  He  saw  his  crime  dis 
covered — his  guilty  secret  read,  and  fled  in  un 
reasoning  panic.  He  might  better  have  held  on 
to  his  wits.  It  was  this  display  of  fear  which  led 
me  to  search  after  its  cause,  and  consequently  to 


Problem  3  for  Violet  Strange       97 

discover  that  at  this  especial  hour  more  than  one 
person  had  been  in  the  Shaffer  house ;  that,  in 
fact,  a  marriage  had  been  celebrated  there  under 
circumstances  as  romantic  as  any  we  read  of  in 
books,  and  that  this  marriage,  privately  carried 
out,  had  been  followed  by  an  immediate  voyage 
of  the  happy  couple  on  one  of  the  White  Star 
steamers.  With  the  rest  you  are  conversant.  I 
do  not  need  to  say  anything  about  what  has 
followed  the  sending  of  that  Marconi." 

"But  I  am  going  to  say  something  about  your 
work  in  this  matter,  Miss  Strange.  The  big 
detectives  about  here  will  have  to  look  sharp 
if " 

"Don't,  please!  Not  yet."  A  smile  softened 
the  asperity  of  this  interruption.  "The  man  has 
yet  to  be  caught  and  identified.  Till  that  is  done 
I  cannot  enjoy  any  one's  congratulations.  And 
you  will  see  that  all  this  may  not  be  so  easy.  If 
no  one  happened  to  meet  the  desperate  wretch 
before  he  had  an  opportunity  to  retie  his  shoe 
laces,  there  will  be  little  for  you  or  even  for  the 
police  to  go  upon  but  his  wounded  foot,  his  un 
doubtedly  carefully  prepared  alibi,  and  later,  a 
woman's  confused  description  of  a  face  seen  but 
for  a  moment  only  and  that  under  a  personal 
excitement  precluding  minute  attention.  I  should 


98  An  Intangible  Clue 

not  be  surprised  if   the   whole   thing  came   to 
nothing." 

But  it  did  not.  As  soon  as  the  description  was 
received  from  Mrs.  Amidon  (a  description,  by  the 
way,  which  was  unusually  clear  and  precise,  owing 
to  the  peculiar  and  contradictory  features  of  the 
man) ,  the  police  were  able  to  recognize  him  among 
the  many  suspects  always  under  their  eye.  Ar 
rested,  he  pleaded,  just  as  Miss  Strange  had  fore 
told,  an  alibi  of  a  seemingly  unimpeachable 
character ;  but  neither  it,  nor  the  plausible  explana 
tion  with  which  he  endeavoured  to  account  for  a 
freshly  healed  scar  amid  the  callouses  of  his  right 
foot,  could  stand  before  Mrs.  Amidon's  unequiv 
ocal  testimony  that  he  was  the  same  man  she  had 
seen  in  Mrs.  Doolittle's  upper  room  on  the  after 
noon  of  her  own  happiness  and  of  that  poor 
woman's  murder. 

The  moment  when,  at  his  trial,  the  two  faces 
again  confronted  each  other  across  a  space  no 
wider  than  that  which  had  separated  them  on  the 
dread  occasion  in  Seventeenth  Street,  is  said  to 
have  been  one  of  the  most  dramatic  in  the  annals 
of  that  ancient  court  room. 


PROBLEM  IV 

THE   GROTTO   SPECTRE 

MISS  STRANGE  was  not  often  pensive — at 
least  not  at  large  functions  or  when  under 
the  public  eye.  But  she  certainly  forgot  herself 
at  Mrs.  Provost's  musicale  and  that,  too,  without 
apparent  reason.  Had  the  music  been  of  a  high 
order  one  might  have  understood  her  abstraction ; 
but  it  was  of  a  decidedly  mediocre  quality,  and 
Violet's  ear  was  much  too  fine  and  her  musical  sense 
too  cultivated  for  her  to  be  beguiled  by  anything 
less  than  the  very  best. 

Nor  had  she  the  excuse  of  a  dull  companion. 
Her  escort  for  the  evening  was  a  man  of  unusual 
conversational  powers ;  but  she  seemed  to  be  almost 
oblivious  of  his  presence;  and  when,  through  some 
passing  courteous  impulse,  she  did  turn  her  ear  his 
way,  it  was  with  just  that  tinge  of  preoccupation 
which  betrays  the  divided  mind. 

Were  her  thoughts  with  some  secret  problem  yet 
unsolved?  It  would  scarcely  seem  so  from  the 

99 


ioo  The  Grotto  Spectre 

gay  remark  with  which  she  had  left  home.  She 
was  speaking  to  her  brother  and  her  words  were : 
"  I  am  going  out  to  enjoy  myself.  I've  not  a  care 
in  the  world.  The  slate  is  quite  clean. "  Yet  she 
had  never  seemed  more  out  of  tune  with  her  sur 
roundings  nor  shown  a  mood  further  removed  from 
trivial  entertainment.  What  had  happened  to 
becloud  her  gaiety  in  the  short  time  which  had 
since  elapsed? 

We  can  answer  in  a  sentence. 

She  had  seen,  among  a  group  of  young  men  in  a 
distant  doorway,  one  with  a  face  so  individual  and 
of  an  expression  so  extraordinary  that  all  interest 
in  the  people  about  her  had  stopped  as  a  clock 
stops  when  the  pendulum  is  held  back.  She  could 
see  nothing  else,  think  of  nothing  else.  Not 
that  it  was  so  very  handsome — though  no  other 
had  ever  approached  it  in  its  power  over  her 
imagination — but  because  of  its  expression  of 
haunting  melancholy, — a  melancholy  so  settled  and 
so  evidently  the  result  of  long-continued  sorrow 
that  her  interest  had  been  reached  and  her  heart 
strings  shaken  as  never  before  in  her  whole  life. 

She  would  never  be  the  same  Violet  again. 

Yet  moved  as  she  undoubtedly  was,  she  was  not 
conscious  of  the  least  desire  to  know  who  the  young 
man  was,  or  even  to  be  made  acquainted  with  his 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      101 

story.  She  simply  wanted  to  dream  her  dream 
undisturbed. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  sense  of  unwelcome  shock 
that,  in  the  course  of  the  reception  following  the 
programme,  she  perceived  this  same  young  man 
approaching  herself,  with  his  right  hand  touching 
his  left  shoulder  in  the  peculiar  way  which  com 
mitted  her  to  an  interview  with  or  without  a  formal 
introduction. 

Should  she  fly  the  ordeal?  Be  blind  and  deaf 
to  whatever  was  significant  in  his  action,  and  go 
her  way  before  he  reached  her;  thus  keeping  her 
dream  intact?  Impossible.  His  eye  prevented 
that.  His  glance  had  caught  hers  and  she  felt 
forced  to  await  his  advance  and  give  him  her 
first  spare  moment. 

It  came  soon,  and  when  it  came  she  greeted  him 
with  a  smile.  It  was  the  first  she  had  ever  be 
stowed  in  welcome  of  a  confidence  of  whose  tenor 
she  was  entirely  ignorant. 

To  her  relief  he  showed  his  appreciation  of  the 
dazzling  gift  though  he  made  no  effort  to  return 
it.  Scorning  all  preliminaries  in  his  eagerness  to 
discharge  himself  of  a  burden  which  was  fast  be 
coming  intolerable,  he  addressed  her  at  once  in 
these  words: 

"You  are  very  good,  Miss  Strange,  to  receive 


102  The  Grotto  Spectre 

me  in  this  unconventional  fashion.  I  am  in  that 
desperate  state  of  mind  which  precludes  etiquette. 
Will  you  listen  to  my  petition?  I  am  told — you 
know  by  whom — "(and  he  again  touched  his 
shoulder)  "that  you  have  resources  of  intelligence 
which  especially  fit  you  to  meet  the  extraordinary 
difficulties  of  my  position.  May  I  beg  you  to  exer 
cise  them  in  my  behalf?  No  man  would  be  more 
grateful  if —  But  I  see  that  you  do  not  recognize 
me.  I  am  Roger  Upjohn.  That  I  am  admitted  to 
this  gathering  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  our  hostess 
knew  and  loved  my  mother.  In  my  anxiety  to 
meet  you  and  proffer  my  plea,  I  was  willing  to 
brave  the  cold  looks  you  have  probably  noticed 
on  the  faces  of  the  people  about  us.  But  I  have 
no  right  to  subject  you  to  criticism.  I 

"Remain."  Violet's  voice  was  troubled,  her 
self-possession  disturbed;  but  there  was  a  com 
mand  in  her  tone  which  he  was  only  too  glad  to 
obey.  "  I  know  the  name"  (who  did  not!)  "and 
possibly  my  duty  to  myself  should  make  me  shun 
a  confidence  which  may  burden  me  without  reliev 
ing  you.  But  you  have  been  sent  to  me  by  one 
whose  behests  I  feel  bound  to  respect  and 

Mistrusting  her  voice,  she  stopped.  The  suffer 
ing  which  made  itself  apparent  in  the  face  before 
her  appealed  to  her  heart  in  a  way  to  rob  her  of 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      103 

her  judgment.     She  did  not  wish  this  to  be  seen, 
and  so  fell  silent. 

He  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  her  obvious 
embarrassment.  "Should  I  have  been  sent  to 
you  if  I  had  not  first  secured  the  confidence  of  the 
sender?  You  know  the  scandal  attached  to  my 
name,  some  of  it  just,  some  of  it  very  unjust.  If 
you  will  grant  me  an  interview  to-morrow,  I  will 
make  an  endeavour  to  refute  certain  charges  which 
I  have  hitherto  let  go  unchallenged.  Will  you  do 
me  this  favour  ?  Will  you  listen  in  your  own  house 
to  what  I  have  to  say  ? " 

Instinct  cried  out  against  any  such  concession 
on  her  part,  bidding  her  beware  of  one  who 
charmed  without  excellence  and  convinced  with 
out  reason.  But  compassion  urged  compliance 
and  compassion  won  the  day.  Though  conscious 
of  weakness, — she,  Violet  Strange  on  whom  strong 
men  had  come  to  rely  in  critical  hours  calling  for 
well-balanced  judgment, — she  did  not  let  this  con 
cern  her,  or  allow  herself  to  indulge  in  useless  re 
grets  even  after  the  first  effect  of  his  presence  had 
passed  and  she  had  succeeded  in  recalling  the  facts 
which  had  cast  a  cloud  about  his  name. 

Roger  Upjohn  was  a  widower,  and  the  scandal 
affecting  him  was  connected  with  his  wife's  death. 


io4  The  Grotto  Spectre 

Though  a  degenerate  in  some  respects,  lacking 
the  domineering  presence,  the  strong  mental  quali 
ties,  and  inflexible  character  of  his  progenitors, 
the  wealthy  Massachusetts  Upjohns  whose  great 
place  on  the  coast  had  a  history  as  old  as  the  State 
itself,  he  yet  had  gifts  and  attractions  of  his  own 
which  would  have  made  him  a  worthy  representa 
tive  of  his  race,  if  only  he  had  not  fixed  his  affec 
tions  on  a  woman  so  cold  and  heedless  that  she 
would  have  inspired  universal  aversion  instead  of 
love,  had  she  not  been  dowered  with  the  beauty 
and  physical  fascination  which  sometimes  accom 
pany  a  hard  heart  and  a  scheming  brain.  It  was 
this  beauty  which  had  caught  the  lad;  and  one 
day,  just  as  the  careful  father  had  mapped  out  a 
course  of  study  calculated  to  make  a  man  of  his 
son,  that  son  drove  up  to  the  gates  with  this  lady 
whom  he  introduced  as  his  wife. 

The  shock,  not  of  her  beauty,  though  that  was 
of  the  dazzling  quality  which  catches  a  man  in  the 
throat  and  makes  a  slave  of  him  while  the  first 
surprise  lasts,  but  of  the  overthrow  of  all  his  hopes 
and  plans,  nearly  prostrated  Homer  Upjohn.  He 
saw,  as  most  men  did  the  moment  judgment  re 
turned,  that  for  all  her  satin  skin  and  rosy  flush, 
the  wonder  of  her  hair  and  the  smile  which  pierced 
like  arrows  and  warmed  like  wine,  she  was  more 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      105 

likely  to  bring  a  curse  into  the  house  than   a 
blessing. 

And  so  it  proved.  In  less  than  a  year  the  young 
husband  had  lost  all  his  ambitions  and  many  of 
his  best  impulses.  No  longer  inclined  to  study, 
he  spent  his  days  in  satisfying  his  wife's  whims 
and  his  evenings  in  carousing  with  the  friends  with 
which  she  had  provided  him.  This  in  Boston 
whither  they  had  fled  from  the  old  gentleman's 
displeasure;  but  after  their  little  son  came  the 
father  insisted  upon  their  returning  home,  which 
led  to  great  deceptions,  and  precipitated  a  tragedy 
no  one  ever  understood.  They  were  natural 
gamblers — this  couple — as  all  Boston  society  knew ; 
and  as  Homer  Upjohn  loathed  cards,  they  found 
life  slow  in  the  great  house  and  grew  correspond 
ingly  restless  till  they  made  a  discovery — or  shall 
I  say  a  rediscovery — of  the  once  famous  grotto  hid 
den  in  the  rocks  lining  their  portion  of  the  coast. 
Here  they  found  a  retreat  where  they  could  hide 
themselves  (often  when  they  were  thought  to  be 
abed  and  asleep)  and  play  together  for  money 
or  for  a  supper  in  the  city  or  for  anything  else  that 
foolish  fancy  suggested.  This  was  while  their 
little  son  remained  an  infant;  later,  they  were 
less  easily  satisfied.  Both  craved  company,  ex 
citement,  and  gambling  on  a  large  scale;  so  they 


io6  The  Grotto  Spectre 

took  to  inviting  friends  to  meet  them  in  this 
grotto  which,  through  the  agency  of  one  old  serv 
ant  devoted  to  Roger  to  the  point  of  folly,  had 
been  fitted  up  and  lighted  in  a  manner  not  only 
comfortable  but  luxurious.  A  small  but  sheltered 
haven  hidden  in  the  curve  of  the  rocks  made  an 
approach  by  boat  feasible  at  high  tide ;  and  at  low 
the  connection  could  be  made  by  means  of  a 
path  over  the  promontory  in  which  this  grotto  lay 
concealed.  The  fortune  which  Roger  had  in 
herited  from  his  mother  made  these  excesses  possi 
ble,  but  many  thousands,  let  alone  the  few  he  could 
call  his,  soon  disappeared  under  the  witchery  of  an 
irresponsible  woman,  and  the  half-dozen  friends 
who  knew  his  secret  had  to  stand  by  and  see  his 
ruin,  without  daring  to  utter  a  word  to  the  one  who 
alone  could  stay  it.  For  Homer  Upjohn  was  not 
a  man  to  be  approached  lightly,  nor  was  he  one  to 
listen  to  charges  without  ocular  proof  to  support 
them;  and  this  called  for  courage,  more  courage 
than  was  possessed  by  any  one  who  knew  them 
both. 

He  was  a  hard  man  was  Homer  Upjohn,  but 
with  a  heart  of  gold  for  those  he  loved.  This, 
even  his  wary  daughter-in-law  was  wise  enough  to 
detect,  and  for  a  long  while  after  the  birth  of  her 
child  she  besieged  him  with  her  coaxing  ways  and 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      107 

bewitching  graces.  But  he  never  changed  his 
first  opinion  of  her,  and  once  she  became  fully 
convinced  of  the  folly  of  her  efforts,  she  gave  up  all 
attempt  to  please  him  and  showed  an  open  indiffer 
ence.  This  in  time  gradually  extended  till  it 
embraced  not  only  her  child  but  her  husband  as 
well.  Yes,  it  had  come  to  that.  His  love  no 
longer  contented  her.  Her  vanity  had  grown  by 
what  it  daily  fed  on,  and  now  called  for  the  admi 
ration  of  the  fast  men  who  sometimes  came  up 
from  Boston  to  play  with  them  in  their  unholy 
retreat.  To  win  this,  she  dressed  like  some 
demon  queen  or  witch,  though  it  drove  her  hus 
band  into  deeper  play  and  threatened  an  exposure 
which  would  mean  disaster  not  only  to  herself  but 
to  the  whole  family. 

In  all  this,  as  any  one  could  see,  Roger  had  been 
her  slave  and  the  willing  victim  of  all  her  caprices. 
What  was  it,  then,  which  so  completely  changed 
him  that  a  separation  began  to  be  talked  of  and 
even  its  terms  discussed?  One  rumour  had  it 
that  the  father  had  discovered  the  secret  of  the 
grotto  and  exacted  this  as  a  penalty  from  the  son 
who  had  dishonoured  him.  Another,  that  Roger 
himself  was  the  one  to  take  the  initiative  in  this 
matter:  That,  on  returning  unexpectedly  from 
New  York  one  evening  and  finding  her  missing 


io8  The  Grotto  Spectre 

from  the  house,  he  had  traced  her  to  the  grotto 
where  he  came  upon  her  playing  a  desperate  game 
with  the  one  man  he  had  the  greatest  reason  to 
distrust. 

But  whatever  the  explanation  of  this  sudden 
change  in  their  relations,  there  is  but  little  doubt 
that  a  legal  separation  between  this  ill-assorted 
couple  was  pending,  when  one  bleak  autumn  morn 
ing  she  was  discovered  dead  in  her  bed  under 
circumstances  peculiarly  open  to  comment. 

The  physicians  who  made  out  the  certificate 
ascribed  her  death  to  heart-disease,  symptoms  of 
which  had  lately  much  alarmed  the  family  doctor; 
but  that  a  personal  struggle  of  some  kind  had 
preceded  the  fatal  attack  was  evident  from  the 
bruises  which  blackened  her  wrists.  Had  there 
been  the  like  upon  her  throat  it  might  have  gone 
hard  with  the  young  husband  who  was  known  to 
be  contemplating  her  dismissal  from  the  house. 
But  the  discoloration  of  her  wrists  was  all,  and  as 
bruised  wrists  do  not  kill  and  there  was  besides  no 
evidence  forthcoming  of  the  two  having  spent  one 
moment  together  for  at  least  ten  hours  preceding 
the  tragedy  but  rather  full  and  satisfactory  testi 
mony  to  the  contrary,  the  matter  lapsed  and  all 
criminal  proceedings  were  avoided. 

But  not  the  scandal  which  always  follows  the 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      109 

unexplained.  As  time  passed  and  the  peculiar 
look  which  betrays  the  haunted  soul  gradually 
became  visible  in  the  young  widower's  eyes, 
doubts  arose  and  reports  circulated  which  cast 
strange  reflections  upon  the  tragic  end  of  his  mis 
taken  marriage.  Stories  of  the  disreputable  use 
to  which  the  old  grotto  had  been  put  were  mingled 
with  vague  hints  of  conjugal  violence  never  pro 
perly  investigated.  The  result  was  his  general 
avoidance  not  only  by  the  social  set  dominated  by 
his  high-minded  father,  but  by  his  own  less  re 
putable  coterie,  which,  however  lax  in  its  moral 
code,  had  very  little  use  for  a  coward. 

Such  was  the  gossip  which  had  reached  Violet's 
ears  in  connection  with  this  new  client,  prejudicing 
her  altogether  against  him  till  she  caught  that 
beam  of  deep  and  concentrated  suffering  in  his  eye 
and  recognized  an  innocence  which  ensured  her 
sympathy  and  led  her  to  grant  him  the  interview 
for  which  he  so  earnestly  entreated. 

He  came  prompt  to  the  hour,  and  when  she 
saw  him  again  with  the  marks  of  a  sleepless  night 
upon  him  and  all  the  signs  of  suffering  intensified 
in  his  unusual  countenance,  she  felt  her  heart  sink 
within  her  in  a  way  she  failed  to  understand.  A 
dread  of  what  she  was  about  to  hear  robbed  her  of 


no  The  Grotto  Spectre 

all  semblance  of  self-possession,  and  she  stood  like 
one  in  a  dream  as  he  uttered  his  first  greetings  and 
then  paused  to  gather  up  his  own  moral  strength 
before  he  began  his  story.  When  he  did  speak  it 
was  to  say : 

"I  find  myself  obliged  to  break  a  vow  I  have 
made  to  myself.  You  cannot  understand  my  need 
unless  I  show  you  my  heart.  My  trouble  is  not 
the  one  with  which  men  have  credited  me.  It  has 
another  source  and  is  infinitely  harder  to  bear. 
Personal  dishonour  I  have  deserved  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  but  the  trial  which  has  come  to  me 
now  involves  a  person  more  dear  to  me  than 
myself,  and  is  totally  without  alleviation  unless 
you — "  He  paused,  choked,  then  recommenced 
abruptly:  "My  wife" — Violet  held  her  breath — 
"was  supposed  to  have  died  from  heart-disease  or 
— or  some  strange  species  of  suicide.  There  were 
reasons  for  this  conclusion — reasons  which  I  ac 
cepted  without  serious  question  till  some  five  weeks 
ago  when  I  made  a  discovery  which  led  me  to 

The  broken  sentence  hung  suspended.  Violet, 
notwithstanding  his  hurried  gesture,  could  not 
restrain  herself  from  stealing  a  look  at  his  face. 
It  was  set  in  horror  and,  though  partially  turned 
aside,  made  an  appeal  to  her  compassion  to  fill 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      in 

the  void  made  by  his  silence,  without  further 
suggestion  from  him. 

She  did  this  by  saying  tentatively  and  with  as 
little  show  of  emotion  as  possible: 

"You  feared  that  the  event  called  for  vengeance 
and  that  vengeance  would  mean  increased  suffer 
ing  to  yourself  as  well  as  to  another?" 

''Yes;  great  suffering.  But  I  may  be  under  a 
most  lamentable  mistake.  I  am  not  sure  of  my 
conclusions.  If  my  doubts  have  no  real  founda 
tion — if  they  are  simply  the  offspring  of  my  own 
diseased  imagination,  what  an  insult  to  one  I 
revere!  What  a  horror  of  ingratitude  and 
misunderstanding " 

"Relate  the  facts, "  came  in  startled  tones  from 
Violet.  ' ' They  may  enlighten  us. " 

He  gave  one  quick  shudder,  buried  his  face  for 
one  moment  in  his  hands,  then  lifted  it  and 
spoke  up  quickly  and  with  unexpected  firmness: 

"I  came  here  to  do  so  and  do  so  I  will.  But 
where  begin?  Miss  Strange,  you  cannot  be 
ignorant  of  the  circumstances,  open  and  avowed, 
0which  attended  my  wife's  death.  But  there  were 
other  and  secret  events  in  its  connection  which 
happily  have  been  kept  from  the  world,  but  which 
I  must  now  disclose  to  you  at  any  cost  to  my  pride 
and  so-called  honour.  This  is  the  first  one:  On 


H2  The  Grotto  Spectre 

the  morning  preceding  the  day  of  Mrs.  Up  John's 
death,  an  interview  took  place  between  us  at  which 
my  father  was  present.  You  do  not  know  my 
father,  Miss  Strange.  A  strong  man  and  a  stern 
one,  with  a  hold  upon  old  traditions  which  nothing 
can  shake.  If  he  has  a  weakness  it  is  for  my  little 
boy  Roger  in  whose  promising  traits  he  sees  the 
one  hope  which  has  survived  the  shipwreck  of  all 
for  which  our  name  has  stood.  Knowing  this,  and 
realizing  what  the  child's  presence  in  the  house 
meant  to  his  old  age,  I  felt  my  heart  turn  sick 
with  apprehension,  when  in  the  midst  of  the  dis 
cussion  as  to  the  terms  on  which  my  wife  would 
consent  to  a  permanent  separation,  the  little  fellow 
came  dancing  into  the  room,  his  curls  atoss  and  his 
whole  face  beaming  with  life  and  joy. 

' 'She  had  not  mentioned  the  child,  but  I  knew 
her  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  at  the  first  show 
of  preference  on  his  part  for  either  his  grandfather 
or  myself,  she  would  raise  a  claim  to  him  which 
she  would  never  relinquish.  I  dared  not  speak, 
but  I  met  his  eager  looks  with  my  most  forbidding 
frown  and  hoped  by  this  show  of  severity  to  hold 
him  back.  But  his  little  heart  was  full  and,  ignor 
ing  her  outstretched  arms,  he  bounded  towards 
mine  with  his  most  affectionate  cry.  She  saw  and 
uttered  her  ultimatum.  The  child  should  go  with 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      113 

her  or  she  would  not  consent  to  a  separation.  It 
was  useless  for  us  to  talk;  she  had  said  her  last 
word.  The  blow  struck  me  hard,  or  so  I  thought, 
till  I  looked  at  my  father.  Never  had  I  beheld 
such  a  change  as  that  one  moment  had  made  in 
him.  He  stood  as  before ;  he  faced  us  with  the  same 
silent  reprobation ;  but  his  heart  had  run  from  him 
like  water. 

"It  was  a  sight  to  call  up  all  my  resources. 
To  allow  her  to  remain  now,  with  my  feelings  to 
wards  her  all  changed  and  my  father's  eyes  fully 
opened  to  her  stony  nature,  was  impossible.  Nor 
could  I  appeal  to  law.  An  open  scandal  was  my 
father's  greatest  dread  and  divorce  proceedings  his 
horror.  The  child  would  have  to  go  unless  I 
could  find  a  way  to  influence  her  through  her  own 
nature.  I  knew  of  but  one — do  not  look  at  me, 
Miss  Strange.  It  was  dishonouring  to  us  both, 
and  I  am  horrified  now  when  I  think  of  it.  But  to 
me  at  that  time  it  was  natural  enough  as  a  last 
resort.  There  was  but  one  debt  which  my  wife 
ever  paid,  but  one  promise  she  ever  kept.  It  was 
that  made  at  the  gaming-table.  I  offered,  as  soon 
as  my  father,  realizing  the  hopelessness  of  the 
situation,  had  gone  tottering  from  the  room, 
to  gamble  with  her  for  the  child. 

"And  she  accepted. " 

8 


ii4  The  Grotto  Spectre 

The  shame  and  humiliation  expressed  in  this  final 
whisper;  the  sudden  darkness — for  a  storm  was 
coming  up — shook  Violet  to  the  soul.  With 
strained  gaze  fixed  on  the  man  before  her,  now  little 
more  than  a  shadow  in  the  prevailing  gloom,  she 
waited  for  him  to  resume,  and  waited  in  vain. 
The  minutes  passed,  the  darkness  became  intoler 
able,  and  instinctively  her  hand  crept  towards  the 
electric  button  beneath  which  she  was  sitting. 
But  she  failed  to  press  it.  A  tale  so  dark  called  for 
an  atmosphere  of  its  own  kind.  She  would  cast 
no  light  upon  it.  Yet  she  shivered  as  the  silence 
continued,  and  started  in  uncontrollable  dismay 
when  at  length  her  strange  visitor  rose,  and  still, 
without  speaking,  walked  away  from  her  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room.  Only  so  could  he  go  on 
with  the  shameful  tale;  and  presently  she  heard 
his  voice  once  more  in  these  words : 

*  *  Our  house  is  large  and  its  rooms  many ;  but  for 
such  work  as  we  two  contemplated  there  was  but 
one  spot  where  we  could  command  absolute  seclu 
sion.  You  may  have  heard  of  it,  a  famous  natural 
grotto  hidden  in  our  own  portion  of  the  coast  and 
so  fitted  up  as  to  form  a  retreat  for  our  miserable 
selves  when  escape  from  my  father's  eye  seemed 
desirable.  It  was  not  easy  of  access,  and  no  one, 
so  far  as  we  knew,  had  ever  followed  us  there. 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      115 

But  to  ensure  ourselves  against  any  possible  in 
terruption,  we  waited  till  the  whole  house  was  abed 
before  we  left  it  for  the  grotto.  We  went  by  boat 
and  oh!  the  dip  of  those  oars!  I  hear  them  yet. 
And  the  witchery  of  her  face  in  the  moonlight; 
and  the  mockery  of  her  low  fitful  laugh!  As  I 
caught  the  sinister  note  in  its  silvery  rise  and  fall, 
I  knew  what  was  before  me  if  I  failed  to  retain  my 
composure.  And  I  strove  to  hold  it  and  to  meet 
her  calmness  with  stoicism  and  the  taunt  of  her 
expression  with  a  mask  of  immobility.  But  the 
effort  was  hopeless,  and  when  the  time  came  for 
dealing  out  the  cards,  my  eyes  were  burning  in 
their  sockets  and  my  hands  shivering  like  leaves 
in  a  rising  gale. 

"We  played  one  game — and  my  wife  lost.  We 
played  another — and  my  wife  won.  We  played 
the  third — and  the  fate  I  had  foreseen  from  the 
first  became  mine.  The  luck  was  with  her,  and 
I  had  lost  my  boy!" 

A  gasp — a  pause,  during  which  the  thunder 
spoke  and  the  lightning  flashed, — then  a  hurried 
catching  of  his  breath  and  the  tale  went  on. 

"A  burst  of  laughter,  rising  gaily  above  the 
boom  of  the  sea,  announced  her  victory — her 
laugh  and  the  taunting  words:  'You  play  badly, 
Roger.  The  child  is  mine.  Never  fear  that  I 


n6  The  Grotto  Spectre 

shall  fail  to  teach  him  to  revere  his  father.'  Had 
I  a  word  to  throw-back?  No.  When  I  realized 
anything  but  my  dishonoured  manhood,  I  found 
myself  in  the  grotto's  mouth  staring  helplessly  out 
upon  the  sea.  The  boat  which  had  floated  us  in 
at  high  tide  lay  stranded  but  a  few  feet  away,  but 
I  did  not  reach  for  it.  Escape  was  quicker  over 
the  rocks,  and  I  made  for  the  rocks. 

"That  it  was  a  cowardly  act  to  leave  her  there 
to  find  her  way  back  alone  at  midnight  by  the  same 
rough  road  I  was  taking,  did  not  strike  my  mind 
for  an  instant.  I  was  in  flight  from  my  own  past; 
in  flight  from  myself  and  the  haunting  dread  of 
madness.  When  I  awoke  to  reality  again  it  was  to 
find  the  small  door,  by  which  we  had  left  the  house, 
standing  slightly  ajar.  I  was  troubled  by  this,  for 
I  was  sure  of  having  closed  it.  But  the  impression 
was  brief,  and  entering,  I  went  stumbling  up  to  my 
room,  leaving  the  way  open  behind  me  more  from 
sheer  inability  to  exercise  my  will  than  from  any 
thought  of  her. 

"Miss  Strange"  (he  had  come  out  of  the 
shadows  and  was  standing  now  directly  before 
her) ,  ' '  I  must  ask  you  to  trust  implicitly  in  what  I 
tell  you  of  my  further  experiences  that  fatal  night. 
It  was  not  necessary  for  me  to  pass  my  little  son's 
door  in  order  to  reach  the  room  I  was  making  for; 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      117 

but  anguish  took  me  there  and  held  me  glued  to  the 
panels  for  what  seemed  a  long,  long  time.  When 
I  finally  crept  away  it  was  to  go  to  the  room  I  had 
chosen  in  the  top  of  the  house,  where  I  had  my  hour 
of  hell  and  faced  my  desolated  future.  Did  I  hear 
anything  meantime  in  the  halls  below?  No. 
Did  I  even  listen  for  the  sound  of  her  return?  No. 
I  was  callous  to  everything,  dead  to  everything  but 
my  own  misery.  I  did  not  even  heed  the  approach 
of  morning,  till  suddenly,  with  a  shrillness  no  ear 
could  ignore,  there  rose,  tearing  through  the  silence 
of  the  house,  that  great  scream  from  my  wife's 
room  which  announced  the  discovery  of  her  body 
lying  stark  and  cold  in  her  bed. 

"They  said  I  showed  little  feeling/*  He  had 
moved  off  again  and  spoke  from  somewhere  in  the 
shadows.  "Do  you  wonder  at  this  after  such  a 
manifest  stroke  by  a  benevolent  Providence  ?  My 
wife  being  dead,  Roger  was  saved  to  us!  It  was 
the  one  song  of  my  still  undisciplined  soul,  and  I 
had  to  assume  coldness  lest  they  should  see  the 
greatness  of  my  joy.  A  wicked  and  guilty  rejoic 
ing  you  will  say,  and  you  are  right.  But  I  had 
no  memory  then  of  the  part  I  had  played  in  this 
fatality.  I  had  forgotten  my  reckless  flight  from 
the  grotto,  which  left  her  with  no  aid  but  that  of 
her  own  triumphant  spirit  to  help  her  over  those 


n8  The  Grotto  Spectre 

treacherous  rocks.  The  necessity  for  keeping 
secret  this  part  of  our  disgraceful  story  led  me  to 
exert  myself  to  keep  it  out  of  my  own  mind.  It 
has  only  come  back  to  me  in  all  its  force  since  a 
new  horror,  a  new  suspicion,  has  driven  me  to 
review  carefully  every  incident  of  that  awful  night. 
1 '  I  was  never  a  man  of  much  logic,  and  when  they 
came  to  me  on  that  morning  of  which  I  have  just 
spoken  and  took  me  in  where  she  lay  and  pointed 
to  her  beautiful  cold  body  stretched  out  in  seeming 
peace  under  the  satin  coverlet,  and  then  to  the 
pile  of  dainty  clothes  lying  neatly  folded  on  a  chair 
with  just  one  fairy  slipper  on  top,  I  shuddered  at 
her  fate  but  asked  no  questions,  not  even  when  one 
of  the  women  of  the  house  mentioned  the  circum 
stance  of  the  single  slipper  and  said  that  a  search 
should  be  made  for  its  mate.  Nor  was  I  as  much 
impressed  as  one  would  naturally  expect  by  the 
whisper  dropped  in  my  ear  that  something  was  the 
matter  with  her  wrists.  It  is  true  that  I  lifted  the 
lace  they  had  carefully  spread  over  them  and 
examined  the  discoloration  which  extended  like  a 
ring  about  each  pearly  arm;  but  having  no 
memories  of  any  violence  offered  her  (I  had  not 
so  much  as  laid  hand  upon  her  in  the  grotto) ,  these 
marks  failed  to  rouse  my  interest.  But — and  now 
I  must  leap  a  year  in  my  story — there  came  a 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      119 

time  when  both  of  these  facts  recurred  to  my  mind 
with  startling  distinctness  and  clamoured  for 
explanation. 

"I  had  risen  above  the  shock  which  such  a  death 
following  such  events  would  naturally  occasion 
even  in  one  of  my  blunted  sensibilities,  and  was 
striving  to  live  a  new  life  under  the  encouragement 
of  my  now  fully  reconciled  father,  when  accident 
forced  me  to  re-enter  the  grotto  where  I  had  never 
stepped  foot  since  that  night.  A  favourite  dog 
in  chase  of  some  innocent  prey  had  escaped  the 
leash  and  run  into  its  dim  recesses  and  would  not 
come  out  at  my  call.  As  I  needed  him  imme 
diately  for  the  hunt,  I  followed  him  over  the 
promontory  and,  swallowing  my  repugnance,  slid 
into  the  grotto  to  get  him.  Better  a  plunge  to 
my  death  from  the  height  of  the  rocks  towering 
above  it.  For  there  in  a  remote  corner,  lighted 
up  by  a  reflection  from  the  sea,  I  beheld  my  setter 
crouched  above  an  object  which  in  another  mo 
ment  I  recognized  as  my  dead  wife's  missing  slipper. 
Here !  Not  in  the  waters  of  the  sea  or  in  the  inter 
stices  of  the  rocks  outside,  but  here!  Proof  that 
she  had  never  walked  back  to  the  house  where  she 
was  found  lying  quietly  in  her  bed ;  proof  positive  ; 
for  I  knew  the  path  too  well  and  the  more  than  usual 
tenderness  of  her  feet. 


120  The  Grotto  Spectre 

"How  then,  did  she  get  there;  and  by  whose 
agency?  Was  she  living  when  she  went,  or  was 
she  already  dead?  A  year  had  passed  since  that 
delicate  shoe  had  borne  her  from  the  boat  into 
these  dim  recesses;  but  it  might  have  been  only 
a  day,  so  vividly  did  I  live  over  in  this  moment 
of  awful  enlightenment  all  the  events  of  the  hour 
in  which  we  sat  there  playing  for  the  possession 
of  our  child.  Again  I  saw  her  gleaming  eyes,  her 
rosy,  working  mouth,  her  slim,  white  hand,  loaded 
with  diamonds,  clutching  the  cards.  Again  I 
heard  the  lap  of  the  sea  on  the  pebbles  outside 
and  smelt  the  odour  of  the  wine  she  had  poured 
out  for  us  both.  The  bottle  which  had  held  it; 
the  glass  from  which  she  had  drunk  lay  now  in 
pieces  on  the  rocky  floor.  The  whole  scene  was 
mine  again  and  as  I  followed  the  event  to  its  de 
spairing  close,  I  seemed  to  see  my  own  wild  figure 
springing  away  from  her  to  the  grotto's  mouth  and 
so  over  the  rocks.  But  here  fancy  faltered,  caught 
by  a  quick  recollection  to  which  I  had  never  given 
a  thought  till  now.  As  I  made  my  way  along  those 
rocks,  a  sound  had  struck  my  ear  from  where 
some  stunted  bushes  made  a  shadow  in  the  moon 
light.  The  wind  might  have  caused  it  or  some  small 
night  creature  hustling  away  at  my  approach;  and 
to  some  such  cause  I  must  at  the  time  have 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      121 

attributed  it.  But  now,  with  brain  fired  by  sus 
picion,  it  seemed  more  like  the  quick  intake  of  a 
human  breath.  Some  one  had  been  lying  there  in 
wait,  listening  at  the  one  loophole  in  the  rocks 
where  it  was  possible  to  hear  what  was  said  and 
done  in  the  heart  of  the  grotto.  But  who?  who? 
and  for  what  purpose  this  listening;  and  to  what 
end  did  it  lead? 

"Though  I  no  longer  loved  even  the  memory  of 
my  wife,  I  felt  my  hair  lift,  as  I  asked  myself  these 
questions.  There  seemed  to  be  but  one  logical 
answer  to  the  last,  and  it  was  this:  A  struggle 
followed  by  death.  The  shoe  fallen  from  her  foot, 
the  clothes  found  folded  in  her  room  (my  wife  was 
never  orderly),  and  the  dimly  blackened  wrists 
which  were  snow-white  when  she  dealt  the  cards — 
all  seemed  to  point  to  such  a  conclusion.  She 
may  have  died  from  heart-failure,  but  a  struggle 
had  preceded  her  death,  during  which  some  man's 
strong  fingers  had  been  locked  about  her  wrists. 
And  again  the  question  rose,  Whose? 

"If  any  place  was  ever  hated  by  mortal  man 
that  grotto  was  hated  by  me.  I  loathed  its  walls, 
its  floor,  its  every  visible  and  invisible  corner. 
To  linger  there — to  look — almost  tore  my  soul 
from  my  body;  yet  I  did  linger  and  did  look  and 
this  is  what  I  found  by  way  of  reward. 


122  The  Grotto  Spectre 

"Behind  a  projecting  ledge  of  stone  from  which 
a  tattered  rug  still  hung,  I  came  upon  two  nails 
driven  a  few  feet  apart  into  a  fissure  of  the  rock. 
I  had  driven  those  nails  myself  long  before  for  a 
certain  gymnastic  attachment  much  in  vogue  at 
the  time,  and  on  looking  closer,  I  discovered  hang 
ing  from  them  the  rope-ends  by  which  I  was  won't 
to  pull  myself  about.  So  far  there  was  nothing  to 
rouse  any  but  innocent  reminiscences.  But  when 
I  heard  the  dog's  low  moan  and  saw  him  leap  at 
the  curled-up  ends,  and  nose  them  with  an  eager 
look  my  way,  I  remembered  the  dark  marks 
circling  the  wrists  about  which  I  had  so  often 
clasped  my  mother's  bracelets,  and  the  world 
went  black  before  me. 

"When  consciousness  returned — when  I  could 
once  more  move  and  see  and  think,  I  noted  an 
other  fact.  Cards  were  strewn  about  the  floor, 
face  up  and  in  a  fixed  order  as  if  laid  in  a  mocking 
mood  to  be  looked  upon  by  reluctant  eyes;  and 
near  the  ominous  half -circle  they  made,  a  cushion 
from  the  lounge,  stained  horribly  with  what  I 
then  thought  to  be  blood,  but  which  I  afterwards 
found  to  be  wine.  Vengeance  spoke  in  those  ropes 
and  in  the  carefully  spread-out  cards,  and  murder 
in  the  smothering  pillow.  The  vengeance  of  one 
who  had  watched  her  corroding  influence  eat  the 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      123 

life  out  of  my  honour  and  whose  love  for  our  little 
Roger  was  such  that  any  deed  which  ensured  his 
continued  presence  in  the  home  appeared  not 
only  warrantable  but  obligatory.  Alas!  I  knew 
of  but  one  person  in  the  whole  world  who  could 
cherish  feeling  to  this  extent  or  possess  sufficient 
will  power  to  carry  her  lifeless  body  back  to  the 
house  and  lay  it  in  her  bed  and  give  no  sign  of 
the  abominable  act  from  that  day  on  to  this. 

"Miss  Strange,  there  are  men  who  have  a 
peculiar  conception  of  duty.  My  father " 

"You  need  not  go  on."  How  gently,  how 
tenderly  our  Violet  spoke.  "I  understand  your 
trouble " 

Did  she?  She  paused  to  ask  herself  if  this  were 
so,  and  he,  deaf  perhaps  to  her  words,  caught  up 
his  broken  sentence  and  went  on: 

"My  father  was  in  the  hall  the  day  I  came 
staggering  in  from  my  visit  to  the  grotto.  No 
words  passed,  but  our  eyes  met  and  from  that 
hour  I  have  seen  death  in  his  countenance  and  he 
has  seen  it  in  mine,  like  two  opponents,  each  struck 
to  the  heart,  who  stand  facing  each  other  with 
simulated  smiles  till  they  fall.  My  father  will 
drop  first.  He  is  old — very  old  since  that  day  five 
weeks  ago;  and  to  see  him  die  and  not  be  sure — 
to  see  the  grave  close  over  a  possible  innocence, 


124  The  Grotto  Spectre 

and  I  left  here  in  ignorance  of  the  blissful  fact  till 
my  own  eyes  close  forever,  is  more  than  I  can  hold 
up  under;  more  than  any  son  could.  Cannot  you 
help  me  then  to  a  positive  knowledge?  Think! 
think !  A  woman's  mind  is  strangely  penetrating, 
and  yours,  I  am  told,  has  an  intuitive  faculty  more 
to  be  relied  upon  than  the  reasoning  of  men.  It 
must  suggest  some  means  of  confirming  my  doubts 
or  of  definitely  ending  them. " 

Then  Violet  stirred  and  looked  about  at  him 
and  finally  found  voice. 

"Tell  me  something  about  your  father's  ways. 
What  are  his  habits?  Does  he  sleep  well  or  is  he 
wakeful  at  night?" 

"He  has  poor  nights.  I  do  not  know  how  poor 
because  I  am  not  often  with  him.  His  valet,  who 
has  always  been  in  our  family,  shares  his  room  and 
acts  as  his  constant  nurse.  He  can  watch  over  him 
better  than  I  can;  he  has  no  distracting  trouble 
on  his  mind." 

"And  little  Roger?  Does  your  father  see  much 
of  little  Roger?  Does  he  fondle  him  and  seem 
happy  in  his  presence?" 

"Yes;  yes.  I  have  often  wondered  at  it,  but 
he  does.  They  are  great  chums.  It  is  a  pleasure 
to  see  them  together. " 

"And  the  child  clings  to  him — shows  no  fear — 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      125 

sits  on  his  lap  or  on  the  bed  and  plays  as  children 
do  play  with  his  beard  or  with  his  watch-chain?" 

"Yes.  Only  once  have  I  seen  my  little  chap 
shrink,  and  that  was  when  my  father  gave  him  a 
look  of  unusual  intensity, — looking  for  his  mother 
in  him  perhaps. " 

"Mr.  Upjohn,  forgive  me  the  question;  it  seems 
necessary.  Does  your  father — or  rather  did  your 
father  before  he  fell  ill — ever  walk  in  the  direction 
of  the  grotto  or  haunt  in  any  way  the  rocks  which 
surround  it?" 

"I  cannot  say.  The  sea  is  there;  he  naturally 
loves  the  sea.  But  I  have  never  seen  him  standing 
on  the  promontory. " 

"Which  way  do  his  windows  look?" 

"Towards  the  sea." 

"Therefore  towards  the  promontory?" 

"Yes." 

"Can  he  see  it  from  his  bed?" 

"No.  Perhaps  that  is  the  cause  of  a  peculiar 
habit  he  has." 

"What  habit?" 

"Every  night  before  he  retires  (he  is  not  yet 
confined  to  his  bed)  he  stands  for  a  few  minutes 
in  his  front  window  looking  out.  He  says  it's 
his  good-night  to  the  ocean.  When  he  no  longer 
does  this,  we  shall  know  that  his  end  is  very  near. " 


126  The  Grotto  Spectre 

The  face  of  Violet,  began  to  clear.  Rising,  she 
turned  on  the  electric  light,  and  then,  reseating 
herself,  remarked  with  an  aspect  of  quiet  cheer : 

"I  have  two  ideas;  but  they  necessitate  my 
presence  at  your  place.  You  will  not  mind  a 
visit?  My  brother  will  accompany  me. " 

Roger  Upjohn  did  not  need  to  speak,  hardly  to 
make  a  gesture;  his  expression  was  so  eloquent. 

She  thanked  him  as  if  he  had  answered  in  words, 
adding  with  an  air  of  gentle  reserve:  " Providence 
assists  us  in  this  matter.  I  am  invited  to  Beverly 
next  week  to  attend  a  wedding.  I  was  intending 
to  stay  two  days,  but  I  will  make  it  three  and 
spend  the  extra  one  with  you. " 

"What  are  your  requirements,  Miss  Strange? 
I  presume  you  have  some. " 

Violet  turned  from  the  imposing  portrait  of 
Mr.  Upjohn  which  she  had  been  gravely  contem 
plating,  and  met  the  troubled  eye  of  her  young 
host  with  an  enigmatical  flash  of  her  own.  But 
she  made  no  answer  in  words.  Instead,  she  lifted 
her  right  hand  and  ran  one  slender  finger  thought 
fully  up  the  casing  of  the  door  near  which  they 
stood  till  it  struck  a  nick  in  the  old  mahogany 
almost  on  a  level  with  her  head. 

"Is  your  son  Roger  old  enough  to  reach  so 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      127 

far?"  she  asked  with  another  short  look  at  him  as 
she  let  her  finger  rest  where  it  had  struck  the 
roughened  wood.  "I  thought  he  was  a  little 
fellow. " 

"He  is.  That  cut  was  made  by — by  my  wife; 
a  sample  of  her  capricious  wilfulness.  She  wished 
to  leave  a  record  of  herself  in  the  substance  of 
our  house  as  well  as  in  our  lives.  That  nick  marks 
her  height.  She  laughed  when  she  made  it. 
'  Till  the  walls  cave  in  or  burn,'  is  what  she  said. 
And  I  thought  her  laugh  and  smile  captivating. " 

Cutting  short  his  own  laugh  which  was  much 
too  sardonic  for  a  lady's  ears,  he  made  a  move 
as  if  to  lead  the  way  into  another  portion  of 
the  room.  But  Violet  failed  to  notice  this,  and 
lingering  in  quiet  contemplation  of  this  sugges 
tive  little  nick, — the  only  blemish  in  a  room  of 
ancient  colonial  magnificence, — she  thoughtfully 
remarked : 

"Then  she  was  a  small  woman?"  adding  with 
seeming  irrelevance — ' '  like  myself. ' ' 

Roger  winced.  Something  in  the  suggestion 
hurt  him,  and  in  the  nod  he  gave  there  was  an  air 
of  coldness  which  under  ordinary  circumstances 
would  have  deterred  her  from  pursuing  this  sub 
ject  further.  But  the  circumstances  were  not 
ordinary,  and  she  allowed  herself  to  say : 


128  The  Grotto  Spectre 

"Was  she  so  very  different  from  me, — in  figure, 
I  mean?" 

"No.  Why  do  you  ask?  Shall  we  not  join 
your  brother  on  the  terrace?" 

' '  Not  till  I  have  answered  the  question  you  put 
me  a  moment  ago.  You  wished  to  know  my 
requirements.  One  of  the  most  important  you 
have  already  fulfilled.  You  have  given  your 
servants  a  half -holiday  and  by  so  doing  ensured  to 
us  full  liberty  of  action.  What  else  I  need  in  the 
attempt  I  propose  to  make,  you  will  find  listed  in 
this  memorandum."  And  taking  a  slip  of  paper 
from  her  bag,  she  offered  it  to  him  with  a  hand, 
the  trembling  of  which  he  would  have  noted  had  he 
been  freer  in  mind. 

As  he  read,  she  watched  him,  her  fingers 
nervously  clutching  her  throat. 

"Can  you  supply  what  I  ask?"  she  faltered,  as 
he  failed  to  raise  his  eyes  or  make  any  move  or 
even  to  utter  the  groan  she  saw  surging  up  to  his 
lips.  "Will  you?"  she  impetuously  urged,  as 
his  fingers  closed  spasmodically  on  the  paper,  in 
evidence  that  he  understood  at  last  the  trend  of 
her  daring  purpose. 

The  answer  came  slowly,  but  it  came.  "I  will, 
But  what " 

Her  hand  rose  in  a  pleading  gesture. 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      129 

"Do  not  ask  me,  but  take  Arthur  and  myself 
into  the  garden  and  show  us  the  flowers.  After 
wards,  I  should  like  a  glimpse  of  the  sea. " 

He  bowed  and  they  joined  Arthur  who  had 
already  begun  to  stroll  through  the  grounds. 

Violet  was  seldom  at  a  loss  for  talk  even  at  the 
most  critical  moments.  But  she  was  strangely 
tongue-tied  on  this  occasion,  as  was  Roger  himself. 
Save  for  a  few  observations  casually  thrown  out 
by  Arthur,  the  three  passed  in  a  disquieting  silence 
through  pergola  after  pergola,  and  around  beds 
gorgeous  with  every  variety  of  fall  flowers,  till  they 
turned  a  sharp  corner  and  came  in  full  view  of  the 
sea. 

"  Ah! "  fell  in  an  admiring  murmur  from  Violet's 
lips  as  her  eyes  swept  the  horizon.  Then  as  they 
settled  on  a  mass  of  rock  jutting  out  from  the  shore 
in  a  great  curve,  she  leaned  towards  her  host  and 
softly  whispered: 

''The  promontory ?" 

He  nodded,  and  V;olet  ventured  no  farther,  but 
stood  for  a  little  while  gazing  at  the  tumbled  rocks. 
Then,  with  a  quick  look  back  at  the  house,  she 
asked  him  to  point  out  his  father's  window. 

He  did  so,  and  as  she  noted  how  openly  it  faced 
the  sea,  her  expression  relaxed  and  her  manner 
lost  some  of  its  constraint.  As  they  turned  to 

9 


130  The  Grotto  Spectre 

re-enter  the  house,  she  noticed  an  old  man  picking 
flowers  from  a  vine  clambering  over  one  end  of  the 
piazza. 

"Who  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"Our  oldest  servant,  and  my  father's  own  man, " 
was  Roger's  reply.  "He  is  picking  my  father's 
favourite  flowers,  a  few  late  honeysuckles." 

"How  fortunate!  Speak  to  him,  Mr.  Upjohn. 
Ask  him  how  your  father  is  this  evening. " 

"Accompany  me  and  I  will;  and  do  not  be 
afraid  to  enter  into  conversation  with  him.  He  is 
the  mildest  of  creatures  and  devoted  to  his  patient. 
He  likes  nothing  better  than  to  talk  about  him. " 

Violet,  with  a  meaning  look  at  her  brother,  ran 
up  the  steps  at  Roger's  side.  As  she  did  so,  the 
old  man  turned  and  Violet  was  astonished  at  the 
wistfulness  with  which  he  viewed  her. 

"What  a  dear  old  creature!"  she  murmured. 
"See  how  he  stares  this  way.  You  would  think 
he  knew  me." 

"  He  is  glad  to  see  a  woman  about  the  place.  He 
has  felt  our  isolation — Good-evening,  Abram. 
Let  this  young  lady  have  a  spray  of  your  sweetest 
honeysuckle.  And,  Abram,  before  you  go,  how 
is  Father  to-night  ?  Still  sitting  up  ? " 

"Yes,  sir.  He  is  very  regular  in  his  wa}rs. 
Nine  is  his  hour;  not  a  minute  before  and  not  a 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      131 

minute  later.  I  don't  have  to  look  at  the  clock 
when  he  says:  'There,  Abram,  I've  sat  up  long 
enough. ' ' 

' '  When  my  father  retires  before  his  time  or  goes 
to  bed  without  a  final  look  at  the  sea,  he  will  be  a 
very  sick  man,  Abram." 

' '  That  he  will,  Mr.  Roger ;  that  he  will.  But  he's 
very  feeble  to-night,  very  feeble.  I  noticed  that  he 
gave  the  boy  fewer  kisses  than  usual.  Perhaps  he 
was  put  out  because  the  child  was  brought  in  a 
half -hour  earlier  than  the  stated  time.  He  don't 
like  changes;  you  know  that,  Mr.  Roger;  he  don't 
like  changes.  I  hardly  dared  to  tell  him  that 
the  servants  were  all  going  out  in  a  bunch  to 
night." 

"I'm  sorry, "  muttered  Roger.  "But  he'll  for 
get  it  by  to-morrow.  I  couldn't  bear  to  keep  a 
single  one  from  the  concert.  They'll  be  back  in 
good  season  and  meantime  we  have  you.  Abram 
is  worth  half  a  dozen  of  them,  Miss  Strange.  We 
shall  miss  nothing. " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Roger,  thank  you,"  faltered 
the  old  man.  "I  try  to  do  my  duty. "  And  with 
another  wistful  glance  at  Violet,  who  looked  very- 
sweet  and  youthful  in  the  half-light,  he  pottered 
away. 

The  silence  which  followed  his  departure  was  as 


132  The  Grotto  Spectre 

painful  to  her  as  to  Roger  Upjohn.  When  she 
broke  it  it  was  with  this  decisive  remark : 

1  *  That  man  must  not  speak  of  me  to  your  father. 
He  must  not  even  mention  that  you  have  a  guest 
to-night.  Run  after  him  and  tell  him  so.  It  is 
necessary  that  your  father's  mind  should  not  be 
taken  up  with  present  happenings.  Run. " 

Roger  made  haste  to  obey  her.  When  he  came 
back  she  was  on  the  point  of  joining  her  brother 
but  stopped  to  utter  a  final  injunction : 

"I  shall  leave  the  library,  or  wherever  we  may 
be  sitting,  just  as  the  clock  strikes  half -past  eight. 
Arthur  will  do  the  same,  as  by  that  time  he  will 
feel  like  smoking  on  the  terrace.  Do  not  follow 
either  him  or  myself,  but  take  your  stand  here  on 
the  piazza  where  you  can  get  a  full  view  of  the 
right-hand  wing  without  attracting  any  attention 
to  yourself.  When  you  hear  the  big  clock  in  the 
hall  strike  nine,  look  up  quickly  at  your  father's 
window.  What  you  see  may  determine —  Oh, 
Arthur!  still  admiring  the  prospect?  I  do  not 
wonder.  But  I  find  it  chilly.  Let  us  go  in. " 

Roger  Upjohn,  sitting  by  himself  in  the  library, 
was  watching  the  hands  of  the  mantel  clock  slowly 
approaching  the  hour  of  nine. 

Never  had  silence  seemed  more  oppressive  nor 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      133 

his  sense  of  loneliness  greater.  Yet  the  boom  of 
the  ocean  was  distinct  to  the  ear,  and  human 
presence  no  farther  away  than  the  terrace  where 
Arthur  Strange  could  be  seen  smoking  out  his  cigar 
in  solitude.  The  silence  and  the  loneliness  were 
in  Roger's  own  soul;  and,  in  face  of  the  expected 
revelation  which  would  make  or  unmake  his  future, 
the  desolation  they  wrought  was  measureless. 

To  cut  his  suspense  short,  he  rose  at  length  and 
hurried  out  to  the  spot  designated  by  Miss  Strange 
as  the  best  point  from  which  to  keep  watch  upon 
his  father's  window.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the 
piazza  where  the  honeysuckle  hung,  and  the  odour 
of  the  blossoms,  so  pleasing  to  his  father,  well- 
nigh  overpowered  him  not  only  by  its  sweetness 
but  by  the  many  memories  it  called  up.  Visions 
of  that  father  as  he  looked  at  all  stages  of  their 
relationship  passed  in  a  bewildering  maze  before 
him.  He  saw  him  as  he  appeared  to  his  childish 
eyes  in  those  early  days  of  confidence  when  the 
loss  of  the  mother  cast  them  in  mutual  dependence 
upon  each  other.  Then  a  sterner  picture  of  the 
relentless  parent  who  sees  but  one  straight  course 
to  success  in  this  world  and  the  next.  Then  the 
teacher  and  the  matured  adviser;  and  then — oh, 
bitter  change !  the  man  whose  hopes  he  had  crossed 
— whose  life  he  had  undone,  and  all  for  her  who 


134  The  Grotto  Spectre 

now  came  stealing  upon  the  scene  with  her  slim, 
white,  jewelled  hand  forever  lifted  up  between 
them.  And  she!  Had  he  ever  seen  her  more 
clearly?  Once  more  the  dainty  figure  stepped 
from  fairy-land,  beauteous  with  every  grace  that 
can  allure  and  finally  destroy  a  man.  And  as  he 
saw,  he  trembled  and  wished  that  these  moments 
of  awful  waiting  might  pass  and  the  test  be  over 
which  would  lay  bare  his  father's  heart  and  justify 
his  fears  or  dispel  them  forever. 

But  the  crisis,  if  crisis  it  was,  was  one  of  his  own 
making  and  not  to  be  hastened  or  evaded.  With 
one  quick  glance  at  his  father's  window,  he  turned 
in  his  impatience  towards  the  sea  whose  restless 
and  continuous  moaning  had  at  length  struck  his 
ear.  What  was  in  its  call  to-night  that  he  should 
thus  sway  towards  it  as  though  drawn  by  some 
dread  magnetic  force?  He  had  been  born  to  the 
dashing  of  its  waves  and  knew  its  every  mood  and 
all  the  passion  of  its  song  from  frolicsome  ripple 
to  melancholy  dirge.  But  there  was  something 
odd  and  inexplicable  in  its  effect  upon  his  spirit 
as  he  faced  it  at  this  hour.  Grim  and  implacable — 
a  sound  rather  than  a  sight — it  seemed  to  hold 
within  its  invisible  distances  the  image  of  his  future 
fate.  What  this  image  was  and  why  he  should 
seek  for  it  in  this  impenetrable  void,  he  did  not 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      135 

know.  He  felt  himself  held  and  was  struggling 
with  this  influence  as  with  an  unknown  enemy 
when  there  rang  out,  from  the  hall  within,  the  pre 
paratory  chimes  for  which  his  ear  was  waiting,  and 
then  the  nine  slow  strokes  which  signalized  the 
moment  when  he  was  to  look  for  his  father's 
presence  at  the  window. 

Had  he  wished,  he  could  not  have  forborne  that 
look.  Had  his  eyes  been  closing  in  death,  or  so  he 
felt,  the  trembling  lids  would  have  burst  apart 
at  this  call  and  the  revelations  it  promised. 

And  what  did  he  see?  What  did  that  window 
hold  for  him  ? 

Nothing  that  he  might  not  have  seen  there  any 
night  at  this  hour.  His  father's  figure  drawn  up 
behind  the  panes  in  wistful  contemplation  of  the 
night.  No  visible  change  in  his  attitude,  nothing 
forced  or  unusual  in  his  manner.  Even  the  hand, 
lifted  to  pull  down  the  shade,  moves  with  its 
familiar  hesitation.  In  a  moment  more  that  shade 
will  be  down  and —  But  no !  the  lifted  hand  falls 
back;  the  easy  attitude  becomes  strained,  fixed. 
He  is  staring  now — not  merely  gazing  out  upon  the 
wastes  of  sky  and  sea;  and  Roger,  following  the 
direction  of  his  glance,  stares  also  in  breathless 
emotion  at  what  those  distances,  but  now  so  im 
penetrable,  are  giving  to  the  eye. 


136  The  Grotto  Spectre 

A  spectre  floating  in  the  air  above  the  promon 
tory  !  The  spectre  of  a  woman — of  his  wife,  clad, 
as  she  had  been  clad  that  fatal  night!  Outlined  in 
supernatural  light,  it  faces  them  with  lifted  arms 
showing  the  ends  of  rope  dangling  from  either 
wrist.  A  sight  awful  to  any  eye,  but  to  the  man 
of  guilty  heart 

Ah!  it  comes — the  cry  for  which  the  agonized 
son  had  been  listening!  An  old  man's  shriek, 
hoarse  with  the  remorse  of  sleepless  nights  and 
days  of  unimaginable  regret  and  foreboding!  It 
cuts  the  night.  It  cuts  its  way  into  his  heart.  He 
feels  his  senses  failing  him,  yet  he  must  glance 
once  more  at  the  window  and  see  with  his  last 
conscious  look —  But  what  is  this!  a  change  has 
taken  place  in  the  picture  and  he  beholds,  not  the 
distorted  form  of  his  father  sinking  back  in  shame 
and  terror  before  this  visible  image  of  his  secret 
sin,  but  that  of  another  weak,  old  man  falling  to 
the  floor  behind  his  back!  Abram!  the  attentive, 
seemingly  harmless,  guardian  of  the  household! 
Abram!  who  had  never  spoken  a  word  or  given  a 
look  in  any  way  suggestive  of  his  having  played 
any  other  part  in  the  hideous  drama  of  their  lives 
than  that  of  the  humble  and  sympathetic  servant ! 

The  shock  was  too  great,  the  relief  too  absolute 
for  credence.  He,  the  listener  at  the  grotto?  He, 


Problem  4  for  Violet  Strange      137 

the  avenger  of  the  family's  honour?  He,  the 
insurer  of  little  Roger's  continuance  with  the 
family  at  a  cost  the  one  who  loved  him  best  would 
rather  have  died  himself  than  pay?  Yes!  there  is 
no  misdoubting  this  old  servitor's  attitude  of 
abject  appeal,  or  the  meaning  of  Homer  Up  John's 
joyfully  uplifted  countenance  and  outspreading 
arms.  The  servant  begs  for  mercy  from  man, 
and  the  master  is  giving  thanks  to  Heaven.  Why 
giving  thanks  ?  Has  he  been  the  prey  of  cankering 
doubts  also?  Has  the  father  dreaded  to  discover 
that  in  the  son  which  the  son  has  dreaded  to 
discover  in  the  father? 

It  might  easily  be;  and  as  Roger  recognizes 
this  truth  and  the  full  tragedy  of  their  mutual 
lives,  he  drops  to  his  knees  amid  the  honeysuckles. 

"Violet,  you  are  a  wonder.  But  how  did  you 
dare?" 

This  from  Arthur  as  the  two  rode  to  the  train 
in  the  early  morning. 

The  answer  came  a  bit  waveringly. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  am  astonished  yet,  at  my 
own  daring.  Look  at  my  hands.  They  have  not 
ceased  trembling  since  the  moment  you  threw  the 
light  upon  me  on  the  rocks.  The  figure  of  old 
Mr.  Upjohn  in  the  window  looked  so  august." 


138  The  Grotto  Spectre 

Arthur,  with  a  short  glance  at  the  little  hands 
she  held  out,  shrugged  his  shoulders  imperceptibly. 
It  struck  him  that  the  tremulousness  she  com 
plained  of  was  due  more  to  some  parting  word 
from  their  young  host,  than  from  prolonged  awe 
at  her  own  daring.  But  he  made  no  remark  to 
this  effect,  only  observed : 

"Abram  has  confessed  his  guilt,  I  hear. " 

"Yes,  and  will  die  of  it.  The  master  will  bury 
the  man,  and  not  the  man  the  master. " 

"And  Roger?  Not  the  little  fellow,  but  the 
father?" 

"We  will  not  talk  of  him,"  said  she,  her  eyes 
seeking  the  sea  where  the  sun  in  its  rising  was 
battling  with  a  troop  of  lowering  clouds  and 
slowly  gaining  the  victory. 


END   OF   PROBLEM  IV 


AND  this 
"Ithi 


PROBLEM  V 

THE    DREAMING    LADY 

ND  this  is  all  you  mean  to  tell  me?" 

think  you  will  find  it  quite  enough,  Miss 
Strange." 

"Just  the  address '' 

"And  this  advice:  that  your  call  be  speedy. 
Distracted  nerves  cannot  wait." 

Violet,  across  whose  wonted  piquancy  there  lay 
an  indefinable  shadow,  eyed  her  employer  with  a 
doubtful  air  before  turning  away  toward  the  door. 
She  had  asked  him  for  a  case  to  investigate  (some 
thing  she  had  never  done  before),  and  she  had 
even  gone  so  far  as  to  particularize  the  sort  of 
case  she  desired:  "It  must  be  an  interesting  one, " 
she  had  stipulated,  "but  different,  quite  different 
from  the  last  one.  It  must  not  involve  death  or 
any  kind  of  horror.  If  you  have  a  case  of  subtlety 
without  crime,  one  to  engage  my  powers  without 
depressing  my  spirits,  I  beg  you  to  let  me  have  it. 
I — I  have  not  felt  quite  like  myself  since  I  came 

139 


140  The  Dreaming  Lady 

from  Massachusetts."  Whereupon,  without  fur 
ther  comment,  but  with  a  smile  she  did  not  under 
stand,  he  had  handed  her  a  small  slip  of  paper  on 
which  he  had  scribbled  an  address.  She  should 
have  felt  satisfied,  but  for  some  reason  she  did  not. 
She  regarded  him  as  capable  of  plunging  her  into 
an  affair  quite  the  reverse  of  what  she  felt  herself 
in  a  condition  to  undertake. 

"I  should  like  to  know  a  little  more,"  she  pur 
sued,  making  a  move  to  unfold  the  slip  he  had 
given  her. 

But  he  stopped  her  with  a  gesture. 

"Read  it  in  your  limousine, "  said  he.  "If  you 
are  disappointed  then,  let  me  know.  But  I  think 
you  will  find  yourself  quite  ready  for  your  task." 

"And  my  father?" 

"Would  approve  if  he  could  be  got  to  approve 
the  business  at  all.  You  do  not  even  need  to  take 
your  brother  with  you. " 

' '  Oh,  then,  it's  with  women  only  I  have  to  deal  ? ' ' 

"Read  the  address  after  you  are  headed  up 
Fifth  Avenue. " 

But  when,  with  her  doubts  not  yet  entirely  re 
moved,  she  opened  the  small  slip  he  had  given  her, 
the  number  inside  suggested  nothing  but  the  fact 
that  her  destination  lay  somewhere  near  Eightieth 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      141 

Street.  It  was  therefore  with  the  keenest  surprise 
she  beheld  her  motor  stop  before  the  conspicuous 
house  of  the  great  financier  whose  late  death  had  so 
affected  the  money-market.  She  had  not  had  any 
acquaintance  with  this  man  herself,  but  she  knew 
his  house.  Everyone  knew  that.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  princely  in  the  whole  city.  C.  Dudley 
Brooks  had  known  how  to  spend  his  millions. 
Indeed  he  had  known  how  to  do  this  so  well  that 
it  was  of  him  her  father,  also  a  financier  of  some 
note,  had  once  said  he  was  the  only  successful 
American  he  envied. 

She  was  expected ;  that  she  saw  the  instant  the 
door  was  opened.  This  made  her  entrance  easy — 
an  entrance  further  brightened  by  the  delightful 
glimpse  of  a  child's  cherubic  face  looking  at  her 
from  a  distant  doorway.  It  was  an  instantaneous 
vision,  gone  as  soon  as  seen;  but  its  effect  was  to 
rob  the  pillared  spaces  of  the  wonderful  hallway 
of  some  of  their  chill,  and  to  modify  in  some  slight 
degree  the  formality  of  a  service  which  demanded 
three  men  to  usher  her  into  a  small  reception-room 
not  twenty  feet  from  the  door  of  entrance. 

Left  in  this  secluded  spot,  she  had  time  to  ask 
herself  what  member  of  the  household  she  would  be 
called  upon  to  meet,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that 
she  did  not  even  know  of  whom  the  household 


142  The  Dreaming  Lady 

consisted.  She  was  sure  of  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Brooks  had  been  a  widower  for  many  years  before 
his  death,  but  beyond  that  she  knew  nothing  of  his 
domestic  life.  His  son — but  was  there  a  son  ?  She 
had  never  heard  any  mention  made  of  a  younger 
Mr.  Brooks,  yet  there  was  certainly  some  one 
of  his  connection  who  enjoyed  the  rights  of  an 
heir.  Him  she  must  be  prepared  to  meet  with 
all  due  composure,  whatever  astonishment  he 
might  show  at  the  sight  of  a  slip  of  a  girl  instead 
of  the  experienced  detective  he  had  every  right 
to  expect. 

But  when  the  door  opened  to  admit  the  person 
she  was  awaiting,  the  surprise  was  hers.  It  was  a 
woman  who  stood  before  her,  a  woman  and  an 
oddity.  Yet,  in  just  what  her  oddity  lay,  Violet 
found  it  difficult  to  decide.  Was  it  in  the 
smoothness  of  her  white  locks  drawn  carefully 
down  over  her  ears,  or  in  the  contrast  afforded 
by  her  eager  eyes  and  her  weak  and  tremulous 
mouth?  She  was  dressed  in  the  heaviest  of 
mourning  and  very  expensively,  but  there  was 
that  in  her  bearing  and  expression  which  made 
it  impossible  to  believe  that  she  took  any  interest 
in  her  garments  or  even  knew  in  which  of  her 
dresses  she  had  been  attired. 

"I  am  the  person  you  have  come  here  to  see," 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      143 

she  said.  "Your  name  is  not  unfamiliar  to  me, 
but  you  may  not  know  mine.  It  is  Quintard; 
Mrs.  Quintard.  I  am  in  difficulty.  I  need  assist 
ance — secret  assistance.  I  did  not  know  where  to 
go  for  it  except  to  a  detective  agency;  so  I  tele 
phoned  to  the  first  one  I  saw  advertised;  and — and 
I  was  told  to  expect  Miss  Strange.  But  I  didn't 
think  it  would  be  you  though  I  suppose  it's  all 
right.  You  have  come  here  for  this  purpose, 
haven't  you,  though  it  does  seem  a  little  queer?" 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Quintard;  and  if  you  will  tell 
me " 

"My  dear,  it's  just  this — yes,  I  will  sit  down. 
Last  week  my  brother  died.  You  have  heard 
of  him  no  doubt,  C.  Dudley  Brooks?" 

' '  Oh,  yes ;  my  father  knew  him — we  all  knew  him 
by  reputation.  Do  not  hurry,  Mrs.  Quintard.  I 
have  sent  my  car  away.  You  can  take  all  the  time 
you  wish." 

"No,  no,  I  cannot.  I'm  in  desperate  haste. 
He — but  let  me  go  on  with  my  story.  My  brother 
was  a  widower,  with  no  children  to  inherit.  That 
everybody  knows.  But  his  wife  left  behind  her  a 
son  by  a  former  husband,  and  this  son  of  hers  my 
brother  had  in  a  measure  adopted,  and  even  made 
his  sole  heir  in  a  will  he  drew  up  during  the  lifetime 
of  his  wife.  But  when  he  found,  as  he  very  soon 


144  The  Dreaming  Lady 

did,  that  this  young  man  was  not  developing  in  a 
way  to  meet  such  great  responsibilities,  he  made  a 
new  will — though  unhappily  without  the  know 
ledge  of  the  family,  or  even  of  his  most  intimate 
friends — in  which  he  gave  the  bulk  of  his  great 
estate  to  his  nephew  Clement,  who  has  bettered 
the  promise  of  his  youth  and  who  besides  has 
children  of  great  beauty  whom  my  brother  had 
learned  to  love.  And  this  will — this  hoarded  scrap 
of  paper  which  means  so  much  to  us  all,  is  lost! 
lost!  and  I — "  here  her  voice  which  had  risen 
almost  to  a  scream,  sank  to  a  horrified  whisper, 
" am  the  one  who  lost  it." 

"But  there's  a  copy  of  it  somewhere — there  is 
always  a  copy " 

"Oh,  but  you  haven't  heard  all.  My  nephew 
is  an  invalid;  has  been  an  invalid  for  years — that's 
why  so  little  is  known  about  him.  He's  dying 
of  consumption.  The  doctors  hold  out  no  hope 
for  him,  and  now,  with  the  fear  preying  upon 
him  of  leaving  his  wife  and  children  penniless, 
he  is  wearing  away  so  fast  that  any  hour  may  see 
his  end.  And  I  have  to  meet  his  eyes — such 
pitiful  eyes — and  the  look  in  them  is  killing  me. 
Yet,  I  was  not  to  blame.  I  could  not  help — Oh, 
Miss  Strange,"  she  suddenly  broke  in  with  the 
inconsequence  of  extreme  feeling,  "the  will  is  in 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      145 

the  house !  I  never  carried  it  off  the  floor  where  I 
sleep.  Find  it;  find  it,  I  pray,  or " 

The  moment  had  come  for  Violet's  soft  touch, 
for  Violet's  encouraging  word. 

11 1  will  try,"  she  answered  her. 

Mrs.  Quintard  grew  calmer. 

"But,  first,"  the  young  girl  continued,  "I  must 
know  more  about  the  conditions.  Where  is  this 
nephew  of  yours — the  man  who  is  ill?" 

"In  this  house,  where  he  has  been  for  the  last 
eight  months. " 

"Was  the  child  his  of  whom  I  caught  a  glimpse 
in  the  hall  as  I  came  in?" 

"Yes,  and " 

"I  will  fight  for  that  child!"  Violet  cried  out 
impulsively.  "I  am  sure  his  father's  cause  is 
good.  Where  is  the  other  claimant— the  one 
you  designate  as  Carlos?" 

"Oh,  there's  where  the  trouble  is!  Carlos  is  on 
the  Mauretania,  and  she  is  due  here  in  a  couple  of 
days.  He  comes  from  the  East  where  he  has  been 
touring  with  his  wife.  Miss  Strange,  the  lost  will 
must  be  found  before  then,  or  the  other  will  be 
opened  and  read  and  Carlos  made  master  of  this 
house,  which  would  mean  our  quick  departure  and 
Clement's  certain  death. " 

' '  Move  a  sick  man  ? — a  relative  as  low  as  you  say 


146  The  Dreaming  Lady 

he  is?  Oh  no,  Mrs.  Quintard;  no  one  would  do 
that,  were  the  house  a  cabin  and  its  owners 
paupers. " 

"You  do  not  know  Carlos;  you  do  not  know  his 
wife.  We  should  not  be  given  a  week  in  which  to 
pack.  They  have  no  children  and  they  envy 
Clement  who  has.  Our  only  hope  lies  in  discover 
ing  the  paper  which  gives  us  the  right  to  remain 
here  in  face  of  all  opposition.  That  or  penury. 
Now  you  know  my  trouble. " 

"And  it  is  trouble;  one  from  which  I  shall  make 
every  effort  to  relieve  you.  But  first  let  me  ask  if 
you  are  not  worrying  unnecessarily  about  this 
missing  document?  If  it  was  drawn  up  by  Mr. 
Brooks's  lawyer " 

"But  it  was  not, "  that  lady  impetuously  inter 
rupted.  '  *  His  lawyer  is  Carlos's  near  relative,  and 
has  never  been  told  of  the  change  in  my  brother's 
intentions.  Clement  (I  am  speaking  now  of  my 
brother  and  not  of  my  nephew)  was  a  great 
money-getter,  but  when  it  came  to  standing  up  for 
his  rights  in  domestic  matters,  he  was  :  ore  timid 
than  a  child.  He  was  subject  to  his  wife  while 
she  lived,  and  when  she  was  gone,  to  her  relatives, 
who  are  all  of  a  dominating  character.  When  he 
finally  made  up  his  mind  to  do  us  justice  and 
eliminate  Carlos,  he  went  out  of  town — I  wish 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      147 

I  could  remember  where  —  and  had  this  will 
drawn  up  by  a  stranger,  whose  name  I  cannot 
recall." 

Her  shaking  tones,  her  nervous  manner  betrayed 
a  weakness  equalling,  if  not  surpassing,  that  of  the 
brother  who  dared  in  secret  what  he  had  not 
strength  to  acknowledge  openly,  and  it  was  with 
some  hesitation  Violet  prepared  to  ask  those 
definite  questions  which  would  elucidate  the  cause 
and  manner  of  a  loss  seemingly  so  important. 
She  dreaded  to  hear  some  commonplace  tale  of 
inexcusable  carelessness.  Something  subtler  than 
this — the  presence  of  some  unsuspected  agency 
opposed  to  young  Clement's  interest;  some  par 
tisan  of  Carlos ;  some  secret  undermining  force  in 
a  house  full  of  servants  and  dependants,  seemed 
necessary  for  the  development  of  so  ordinary  a 
situation  into  a  drama  justifying  the  exercise  of 
her  special  powers. 

"I  think  I  understand  now  your  exact  position 
in  the  house,  as  well  as  the  value  of  the  paper  which 
you  say  you  have  lost.  The  next  thing  for  me  to 
hear  is  how  you  came  to  have  charge  of  this  paper, 
and  under  what  circumstances  you  were  led  to 
mislay  it.  Do  you  not  feel  quite  ready  to  tell 
me?" 

"Is — is  that  necessary? "  Mrs.  Quintard  faltered. 


148  The  Dreaming  Lady 

"Very,"  replied  Violet,  watching  her  curiously. 

"I  didn't  expect — that  is,  I  hoped  you  would  be 
able  to  point  out,  by  some  power  we  cannot  of 
course  explain,  just  the  spot  where  the  paper  lies, 
without  having  to  tell  all  that.  Some  people  can, 
you  know." 

"Ah,  I  understand.  You  regarded  me  as  unfit 
for  practical  work,  and  so  credited  me  with  occult 
powers.  But  that  is  where  you  made  a  mistake, 
Mrs.  Quintard;  I'm  nothing  if  not  practical.  And 
let  me  add  that  I'm  as  secret  as  the  grave  concern 
ing  what  my  clients  tell  me.  If  I  am  to  be  of  any 
help  to  you,  I  must  be  made  acquainted  with  eve^ 
fact  involved  in  the  loss  of  this  valuable  paper. 
Relate  the  whole  circumstance  or  dismiss  me  from 
the  case.  You  can  have  done  nothing  more  foolish 
or  wrong  than  many " 

"Oh,  don't  say  things  like  that!"  broke  in  the 
poor  woman  in  a  tone  of  great  indignation.  "I 
have  done  nothing  anyone  could  call  either  foolish 
or  wicked.  I  am  simply  very  unfortunate,  and 

being  sensitive But  this  isn't  telling  the 

story.  I'll  try  to  make  it  all  clear;  but  if  I  do 
not,  and  show  any  confusion,  stop  me  and  help 
me  out  with  questions.  I — I — oh,  where  shall  I 
begin?" 

"With  your  first  knowledge  of  this  second  will. " 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      149 

" Thank  you,  thank  you;  now  I  can  go  on.  One 
night,  shortly  after  my  brother  had  been  given  up 
by  the  physicians,  I  was  called  to  his  bedside  for  a 
confidential  talk.  As  he  had  received  that  day  a 
very  large  amount  of  money  from  the  bank,  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  hand  it  over  to  me  for 
Clement,  but  it  was  for  something  much  more 
serious  than  this  he  had  summoned  me.  When  he 
was  quite  sure  that  we  were  alone  and  nobody 
anywhere  within  hearing,  he  told  me  that  he  had 
changed  his  mind  as  to  the  disposal  of  his  property 
and  that  it  was  to  Clement  and  his  children,  and 
not  to  Carlos,  he  was  going  to  leave  this  house  and 
the  bulk  of  his  money.  That  he  had  had  a  new 
will  drawn  up  which  he  showed  me " 

1  'Showed  you?" 

"Yes;  he  made  me  bring  it  to  him  from  the  safe 
where  he  kept  it ;  and,  feeble  as  he  was,  he  was  so 
interested  in  pointing  out  certain  portions  of  it  that 
he  lifted  himself  in  bed  and  was  so  strong  and 
animated  that  I  thought  he  was  getting  better. 
But  it  was  a  false  strength  due  to  the  excitement 
of  trie  moment,  as  I  saw  next  day  when  he  suddenly 
died." 

"You  were  saying  that  you  brought  the  will  to 
him  from  his  safe.  Where  was  the  safe?" 

"In  the  wall  over  his  head.     He  gave  me  the 


150  The  Dreaming  Lady 

key  to  open  it.  This  key  he  took  from  under  his 
pillow.  I  had  no  trouble  in  fitting  it  or  in  turning 
the  lock." 

"And  what  happened  after  you  looked  at  the 
will?" 

"I  put  it  back.  He  told  me  to.  But  the  key  I 
kept.  He  said  I  was  not  to  part  with  it  again  till 
the  time  came  for  me  to  produce  the  will. " 

"And  when  was  that  to  be?" 

"Immediately  after  the  funeral,  if  it  so  happened 
that  Carlos  had  arrived  in  time  to  attend  it.  But 
if  for  any  reason  he  failed  to  be  here,  I  was  to  let  it 
lie  till  within  three  days  of  his  return,  when  I  was 
to  take  it  out  in  the  presence  of  a  Mr.  Delahunt 
who  was  to  have  full  charge  of  it  from  that  time. 
Oh,  I  remember  all  that  well  enough !  and  I  meant 
most  earnestly  to  carry  out  his  wishes,  but " 

' '  Go  on,  Mrs.  Quintard,  pray  go  on.  What  hap 
pened?  Why  couldn't  you  do  what  he  asked?" 

"Because  the  will  was  gone  when  I  went  to  take 
it  out.  There  was  nothing  to  show  Mr.  Delahunt 
but  the  empty  shelf. " 

"Oh,  a  theft!  Just  a  common  theft!  Someone 
overheard  the  talk  you  had  with  your  brother. 
But  how  about  the  key  ?  You  had  that  ? " 

"Yes,  I  had  that." 

"Then  it  was  taken  from  you  and  returned? 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      151 

You  must  have  been  careless  as  to  where  you  kept 
it " 

"No,  I  wore  it  on  a  chain  about  my  neck. 
Though  I  had  no  reason  to  mistrust  any  one  in  the 
house,  I  felt  that  I  could  not  guard  this  key  too 
carefully.  I  even  kept  it  on  at  night.  In  fact 
it  never  left  me.  It  was  still  on  my  person  when 
I  went  into  the  room  with  Mr.  Delahunt.  But  the 
safe  had  been  opened  for  all  that. " 

"There  were  two  keys  to  it,  then?" 

"No;  in  giving  me  the  key,  my  brother  had 
strictly  warned  me  not  to  lose  it,  as  it  had  no 
duplicate." 

"Mrs.  Quintard,  have  you  a  special  confidant 
or  maid?" 

"Yes,  my  Hetty." 

"How  much  did  she  know  about  this  key?" 

"Nothing,  but  that  it  didn't  help  the  fit  of  my 
dress.  Hetty  has  cared  for  me  for  years.  There's 
no  more  devoted  woman  in  all  New  York,  nor  one 
who  can  be  more  relied  upon  to  tell  the  truth. 
She  is  so  honest  with  her  tongue  that  I  am  bound 
to  believe  her  even  when  she  says " 

"What?" 

"That  it  was  I  and  nobody  else  who  took  the 
will  out  of  the  safe  last  night.  That  she  saw  me 
come  from  my  brother's  room  with  a  folded  paper 


152  The  Dreaming  Lady 

in  my  hand,  pass  with  it  into  the  library,  and  come 
out  again  without  it.  If  this  is  so,  then  that  will 
is  somewhere  in  that  great  room.  But  we've  looked 
in  every  conceivable  place  except  the  shelves, 
where  it  is  useless  to  search.  It  would  take  days  to 
go  through  them  all,  and  meanwhile  Carlos " 

"We  will  not  wait  for  Carlos.  We  will  begin 
work  at  once.  But  just  one  other  question.  How 
came  Hetty  to  see  you  in  your  walk  through  the 
rooms  ?  Did  she  follow  you  ? ' ' 

1 1  Yes.  It's — it's  not  the  first  time  I  have  walked 
in  my  sleep.  Last  night — but  she  will  tell  you. 
It's  a  painful  subject  to  me.  I  will  send  for  her 
to  meet  us  in  the  library. " 

"  Where  you  believe  this  document  to  lie 
hidden?" 

"Yes." 

"I  am  anxious  to  see  the  room.  It  is  upstairs, 
I  believe." 

"Yes." 

She  had  risen  and  was  moving  rapidly  toward 
the  door.  Violet  eagerly  followed  her. 

Let  us  accompany  her  in  her  passage  up  the 
palatial  stairway,  and  realize  the  effect  upon  her 
of  a  splendour  whose  future  ownership  possibly 
depended  entirely  upon  herself. 

It  was  a  cold  splendour.     The  merry  voices  of 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      153 

children  were  lacking  in  these  great  halls.  Death 
past  and  to  come  infused  the  air  with  solemnity 
and  mocked  the  pomp  which  yet  appeared  so  much 
a  part  of  the  life  here  that  one  could  hardly  imag 
ine  the  huge  pillared  spaces  without  it. 

To  Violet,  more  or  less  accustomed  to  fine  in 
teriors,  the  chief  interest  of  this  one  lay  in  its 
connection  with  the  mystery  then  occupying  her. 
Stopping  for  a  moment  on  the  stair,  she  inquired 
of  Mrs.  Quint ard  if  the  loss  she  so  deplored  had 
been  made  known  to  the  servants,  and  was  much 
relieved  to  find  that,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Delahunt,  she  had  not  spoken  of  it  to  any  one  but 
Clement.  "And  he  will  never  mention  it,"  she 
declared,  "not  even  to  his  wife.  She  has  troubles 
enough  to  bear  without  knowing  how  near  she 
stood  to  a  fortune. " 

"Oh,  she  will  have  her  fortune!"  Violet  confi 
dently  replied.  ' '  In  time,  the  lawyer  who  drew  up 
the  will  will  appear.  But  what  you  want  is  an 
immediate  triumph  over  the  cold  Carlos,  and  I 
hope  you  may  have  it.  Ah!" 

This  expletive  was  a  sigh  of  sheer  surprise. 

Mrs.  Quintard  had  unlocked  the  library  door 
and  Violet  had  been  given  her  first  glimpse  of  this, 
the  finest  room  in  New  York. 

She  remembered  now  that  she  had  often  heard 


154  The  Dreaming  Lady 

it  so  characterized,  and,  indeed,  had  it  been  taken 
bodily  from  some  historic  abbey  of  the  old  world, 
it  could  not  have  expressed  more  fully,  in  structure 
and  ornamentation,  the  Gothic  idea  at  its  best. 
All  that  it  lacked  were  the  associations  of  vanished 
centuries,  and  these,  in  a  measure,  were  supplied 
to  the  imagination  by  the  studied  mellowness  of 
its  tints  and  the  suggestion  of  age  in  its  carvings. 

So  much  for  the  room  itself,  which  was  but  a 
shell  for  holding  the  great  treasure  of  valuable 
books  ranged  along  every  shelf.  As  Violet's  eyes 
sped  over  their  ranks  and  thence  to  the  five  win 
dows  of  deeply  stained  glass  which  faced  her  from 
the  southern  end,  Mrs.  Quintard  indignantly 
exclaimed : 

"And  Carlos  would  turn  this  into  a  billiard 
room!" 

"I  do  not  like  Carlos,"  Violet  returned  hotly; 
then  remembering  herself,  hastened  to  ask  whether 
Mrs.  Quintard  was  quite  positive  as  to  this  room 
being  the  one  in  which  she  had  hidden  the  precious 
document. 

"You  had  better  talk  to  Hetty,"  said  that 
lady,  as  a  stout  woman  of  most  prepossessing 
appearance  entered  their  presence  and  paused 
respectfully  just  inside  the  doorway.  "Hetty, 
you  will  answer  any  questions  this  young  lady 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      155 

may  put.  If  anyone  can  help  us,  she  can.  But 
first,  what  news  from,  the  sick-room? " 

"  Nothing  good.  The  doctor  has  just  come  for 
the  third  time  to-day.  Mrs.  Brooks  is  crying  and 
even  the  children  are  dumb  with  fear. " 

"I  will  go.  I  must  see  the  doctor.  I  must  tell 
him  to  keep  Clement  alive  by  any  means  till— 

She  did  not  wait  to  say  what ;  but  Violet  under 
stood  and  felt  her  heart  grow  heavy.  Could  it  be 
that  her  employer  considered  this  the  gay  and  easy 
task  she  had  asked  for? 

The  next  minute  she  was  putting  her  first 
question : 

"Hetty,  what  did  you  see  in  Mrs.  Quintard's 
action  last  night,  to  make  you  infer  that  she  left 
the  missing  document  in  this  room?" 

The  woman's  eyes,  which  had  been  respectfully 
studying  her  face,  brightened  with  a  relief  which 
made  her  communicative.  With  the  self-posses 
sion  of  a  perfectly  candid  nature,  she  inquiringly 
remarked : 

"My  mistress  has  spoken  of  her  infirmity?'* 

"Yes,  and  very  frankly." 

"She  walks  in  her  sleep." 

"So  she  said." 

"And  sometimes  when  others  are  asleep,  and 
she  is  not." 


156  The  Dreaming  Lady 

"She  did  not  tell  me  that. " 

"She  is  a  very  nervous  woman  and  cannot 
always  keep  still  when  she  rouses  up  at  night. 
When  I  hear  her  rise,  I  get  up  too;  but,  never  being 
quite  sure  whether  she  is  sleeping  or  not,  I  am 
careful  to  follow  her  at  a  certain  distance.  Last 
night  I  was  so  far  behind  her  that  she  had  been  to 
her  brother's  room  and  left  it  before  I  saw  her  face." 

"Where  is  his  room  and  where  is  hers?" 

"Hers  is  in  front  on  this  same  floor.  Mr. 
Brooks's  is  in  the  rear,  and  can  be  reached  either 
by  the  hall  or  by  passing  through  this  room  into 
a  small  one  beyond,  which  we  called  his  den. " 

"Describe  your  encounter.  Where  were  you 
standing  when  you  saw  her  first?" 

"In  the  den  I  have  just  mentioned.  There  was 
a  bright  light  in  the  hall  behind  me  and  I  could  see 
her  figure  quite  plainly.  She  was  holding  a  folded 
paper  clenched  against  her  breast,  and  her  move 
ment  was  so  mechanical  that  I  was  sure  she  was 
asleep.  She  was  coming  this  way,  and  in  another 
moment  she  entered  this  room.  The  door,  which 
had  been  open,  remained  so,  and  in  my  anxiety 
I  crept  to  it  and  looked  in  after  her.  There  was 
no  light  burning  here  at  that  hour,  but  the  moon 
was  shining  in  in  long  rays  of  variously  coloured 
light.  If  I  had  followed  her — but  I  did  not.  I 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      157 

just  stood  and  watched  her  long  enough  to  see 
her  pass  through  a  blue  ray,  then  through  a  green 
one,  and  then  into,  if  not  through,  a  red  one.  Ex 
pecting  her  to  walk  straight  on,  and  having  some 
fears  of  the  staircase  once  she  got  into  the  hall,  I 
hurried  around  to  the  door  behind  you  there  to 
head  her  off.  But  she  had  not  yet  left  this  room. 
I  waited  and  waited  and  still  she  did  not  come. 
Fearing  some  accident,  I  finally  ventured  to  ap 
proach  the  door  and  try  it.  It  was  locked.  This 
alarmed  me.  She  had  never  locked  herself  in 
anywhere  before  and  I  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  it.  Some  persons  would  have  shouted  her  name, 
but  I  had  been  warned  against  doing  that,  so  I 
simply  stood  where  I  was,  and  eventually  I  heard 
the  key  turn  in  the  lock  and  saw  her  come  out. 
She  was  still  walking  stiffly,  but  her  hands  were 
empty  and  hanging  at  her  side. " 

"And  then?" 

"She  went  straight  to  her  room  and  I  after  her. 
I  was  sure  she  was  dead  asleep  by  this  time. " 

"And  she  was?" 

"Yes,  Miss;  but  still  full  of  what  was  on  her 
mind.  I  know  this  because  she  stopped  when  she 
reached  the  bedside  and  began  fumbling  with  the 
waist  of  her  wrapper.  It  was  for  the  key  she  was 
searching,  and  when  her  fingers  encountered  it 


158  The  Dreaming  Lady 

hanging  on  the  outside,  she  opened  her  wrapper 
and  thrust  it  in  on  her  bare  skin. " 

"You  saw  her  do  all  that?" 

"As  plainly  as  I  see  you  now.  The  light  in  her 
room  was  burning  brightly. " 

"And  after  that?" 

"She  got  into  bed.  It  was  I  who  turned  off  the 
light." 

"Has  that  wrapper  of  hers  a  pocket?" 

"No,  Miss." 

"Nor  her  gown?" 

"No,  Miss." 

"So  she  could  not  have  brought  the  paper  into 
her  room  concealed  about  her  person?" 

"No,  Miss;  she  left  it  here.  It  never  passed 
beyond  this  doorway." 

"But  might  she  not  have  carried  it  back  to  some 
place  of  concealment  in  the  rooms  she  had  left?" 

The  woman's  face  changed  and  a  slight  flush 
showed  through  the  natural  brown  of  her  cheeks. 

"No, "  she  disclaimed;  "she  could  not  have  done 
that.  I  was  careful  to  lock  the  library  door  behind 
her  before  I  ran  out  into  the  hall. " 

"Then, "  concluded  Violet,  with  all  the  emphasis 
of  conviction,  "it  is  here,  and  nowhere  else  we 
must  look  for  that  document  till  we  find  it. " 

Thus  assured  of  the  first  step  in  the  task  she 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      159 

had  before  her,  Miss  Strange  settled  down  to 
business. 

The  room,  which  towered  to  the  height  of  two 
stories,  was  in  the  shape  of  a  huge  oval.  This 
oval,  separated  into  narrow  divisions  for  the 
purpose  of  accommodating  the  shelves  with  which 
it  was  lined,  narrowed  as  it  rose  above  the  great 
Gothic  chimney-piece  and  the  five  gorgeous  win 
dows  looking  towards  the  south,  till  it  met  and 
was  lost  in  the  tracery  of  the  ceiling,  which  was 
of  that  exquisite  and  soul-satisfying  order  which 
we  see  in  the  Henry  VII  chapel  in  Westminster 
Abbey.  What  break  otherwise  occurred  in  the 
circling  round  of  books  reaching  thus  thirty  feet 
or  more  above  the  head  was  made  by  the  two  doors 
already  spoken  of  and  a  narrow  strip  of  wall  at 
either  end  of  the  space  occupied  by  the  windows. 
No  furniture  was  to  be  seen  there  except  a  couple  of 
stalls  taken  from  some  old  cathedral,  which  stood 
in  the  two  bare  places  just  mentioned. 

But  within,  on  the  extensive  floor-space,  several 
articles  were  grouped,  and  Violet,  recognizing  the 
possibilities  which  any  one  of  them  afforded  for 
the  concealment  of  so  small  an  object  as  a  folded 
document,  decided  to  use  method  in  her  search, 
and  to  that  end,  mentally  divided  the  space  before 
her  into  four  segments. 


i6o 


The  Dreaming  Lady 


The  first  took  in  the  door,  communicating  with 
the  suite  ending  in  Mr.  Brooks's  bedroom.  A 
diagram  of  this  segment  will  show  that  the  only 
article  of  furniture  in  it  was  a  cabinet. 


It  was  at  this  cabinet  Miss  Strange  made  her 
first  stop. 

"You  have  looked  this  well  through?"  she 
asked  as  she  bent  over  the  glass  case  on  top  to 
examine  the  row  of  mediaeval  missals  displayed 
within  in  a  manner  to  show  their  wonderful 
illuminations. 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      161 

' '  Not  the  case, ' '  explained  Hetty.  '  *  It  is  locked 
you  see  and  no  one  has  as  yet  succeeded  in  finding 
the  key.  But  we  searched  the  drawers  underneath 
with  the  greatest  care.  Had  we  sifted  the  whole 
contents  through  our  fingers,  I  could  not  be  more 
certain  that  the  paper  is  not  there. " 

Violet  stepped  into  the  next  segment. 

This  was  the  one  dominated  by  the  huge  fire 
place.  A  rug  lay  before  the  hearth.  To  this 
Violet  pointed. 

Quickly  the  woman  answered : 

"We  not  only  lifted  it,  but  turned  it  over." 

"And  that  box  at  the  right?" 

"Is  full  of  wood  and  wood  only.'* 

"Did  you  take  out  this  wood?" 

"Every  stick." 

"And  those  ashes  in  the  fire-place?  Something 
has  been  burned  there. " 

"Yes;  but  not  lately.  Besides,  those  ashes  are 
all  wood  ashes.  If  the  least  bit  of  charred  paper 
had  been  mixed  with  them,  we  should  have  con 
sidered  the  matter  settled.  But  you  can  see  for 
yourself  that  no  such  particle  can  be  found." 
While  saying  this,  she  had  put  the  poker  into 
Violet's  hand.  "Rake  them  about,  Miss,  and 
make  sure." 

Violet  did  so,  with  the  result  that  the  poker  was 

XI 


1 62  The  Dreaming  Lady 

soon  put  back  into  place,  and  she  herself  down  on 
her  knees  looking  up  the  chimney. 

"Had  she  thrust  it  up  there, "  Hetty  made  haste 
to  remark,  "there  would  have  been  some  signs  of 
soot  on  her  sleeves.  They  are  white  and  very 
long  and  are  always  getting  in  her  way  when  she 
tries  to  do  anything. " 

Violet  left  the  fire-place  after  a  glance  at  the 
mantel-shelf  on  which  nothing  stood  but  a  casket 
of  open  fretwork,  and  two  coloured  photographs 
mounted  on  small  easels.  The  casket  was  too 
open  to  conceal  anything  and  the  photographs 
lifted  too  high  above  the  shelf  for  even  the  smallest 
paper,  let  alone  a  document  of  any  size,  to  hide 
behind  them. 

The  chairs,  of  which  there  were  several  in  this 
part  of  the  room,  she  passed  with  just  an  inquiring 
look.  They  were  all  of  solid  oak,  without  any 
attempt  at  upholstery,  and  although  carved  to 
match  the  stalls  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
offered  no  place  for  search. 

Her  delay  in  the  third  segment  was  brief. 
Here  there  was  absolutely  nothing  but  the  door 
by  which  she  had  entered,  and  the  books.  As 
she  flitted  on,  following  the  oval  of  the  wall,  a 
small  frown  appeared  on  her  usually  smooth 
lorehead.  She  felt  the  oppression  of  the  books — 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      163 

the  countless  books.  If  indeed,  she  should  find 
herself  obliged  to  go  through  them.  What  a 
hopeless  outlook! 

But  she  had  still  a  segment  to  consider,  and  after 
that  the  immense  table  occupying  the  centre  of  the 
room,  a  table  which  in  its  double  capacity  (for  it 
was  as  much  desk  as  table)  gave  more  promise  of 
holding  the  solution  of  the  mystery  than  anything 
to  which  she  had  hitherto  given  her  attention. 

The  quarter  in  which  she  now  stood  was  the 
most  beautiful,  and,  possibly,  the  most  precious 
of  them  all.  In  it  blazed  the  five  great  windows 
which  were  the  glory  of  the  room;  but  there  are 
no  hiding-places  in  windows,  and  much  as  she 
revelled  in  colour,  she  dared  not  waste  a  moment 
on  them.  There  was  more  hope  for  her  in  the 
towering  stalls,  with  their  possible  drawers  for 
books. 

But  Hetty  was  before  her  in  the  attempt  she 
made  to  lift  the  lids  of  the  two  great  seats. 

" Nothing  in  either,"  said  she;  and  Violet,  with 
a  sigh,  turned  towards  the  table. 

This  was  an  immense  affair,  made  to  accommo 
date  itself  to  the  shape  of  the  room,  but  with  a 
hollowed-out  space  on  the  window-side  large 
enough  to  hold  a  chair  for  the  sitter  who  would 
use  its  top  as  a  desk.  On  it  were  various  articles 


164  The  Dreaming  Lady 

suitable  to  its  double  use.  Without  being  crowded, 
it  displayed  a  pile  of  magazines  and  pamphlets, 
boxes  for  stationery,  a  writing  pad  with  its  accom 
paniments,  a  lamp,  and  some  few  ornaments, 
among  which  was  a  large  box,  richly  inlaid  with 
pearl  and  ivory,  the  lid  of  which  stood  wide 
open. 

"Don't  touch,"  admonished  Violet,  as  Hetty 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  move  some  little  object 
aside.  "You  have  already  worked  here  busily  in 
the  search  you  made  this  morning." 

"We  handled  everything. " 

"Did  you  go  through  these  pamphlets?" 

"We  shook  open  each  one.  We  were  especially 
particular  here,  since  it  was  at  this  table  I  saw 
Mrs.  Quintard  stop." 

"With  head  level  or  drooped?" 

"Drooped." 

"Like  one  looking  down,  rather  than  up,  or 
around?" 

"Yes.  A  ray  of  red  light  shone  on  her  sleeve. 
It  seemed  to  me  the  sleeve  moved  as  though  she 
were  reaching  out. " 

"Will  you  try  to  stand  as  she  did  and  as  nearly 
in  the  same  place  as  possible? " 

Hetty  glanced  down  at  the  table  edge,  marked 
where  the  gules  dominated  the  blue  and  green,  and 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      165 

moved  to  that  spot,  and  paused  with  her  head 
sinking  slowly  towards  her  breast. 

"Very  good,"  exclaimed  Violet.  "But  the 
moon  was  probably  in  a  very  different  position 
from  what  the  sun  is  now." 

"You  are  right;  it  was  higher  up;  I  chanced  to 
notice  it." 

"Let  me  come, "  said  Violet. 

Hetty  moved,  and  Violet  took  her  place  but  in 
a  spot  a  step  or  two  farther  front.  This  brought 
her  very  near  to  the  centre  of  the  table.  Hanging 
her  head,  just  as  Hetty  had  done,  she  reached  out 
her  right  hand. 

"Have  you  looked  under  this  blotter?"  she 
asked,  pointing  towards  the  pad  she  touched. 
"I  mean,  between  the  blotter  and  the  frame 
which  holds  it?" 

"I  certainly  did,"  answered  Hetty,  with  some 
pride. 

Violet  remained  staring  down. 

"Then  you  took  off  everything  that  was  lying 
on  it?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

Violet  continued  to  stare  down  at  the  blotter. 
Then  impetuously: 

"Put  them  back  in  their  accustomed  places/' 

Hetty  obeyed. 


166  The  Dreaming  Lady 

Violet  continued  to  look  at  them,  then  slowly 
stretched  out  her  hand,  but  soon  let  it  fall  again 
with  an  air  of  discouragement.  Certainly  the 
missing  document  was  not  in  the  ink-pot  or  the 
mucilage  bottle.  Yet  something  made  her  stoop 
again  over  the  pad  and  subject  it  to  the  closest 
scrutiny. 

"If  only  nothing  had  been  touched!"  she  in 
wardly  sighed.  But  she  let  no  sign  of  her  discon 
tent  escape  her  lips,  simply  exclaiming  as  she 
glanced  up  at  the  towering  spaces  overhead: 
' '  The  books !  the  books !  Nothing  remains  but  for 
you  to  call  up  all  the  servants,  or  get  men  from  the 
outside  and,  beginning  at  one  end — I  should  say 
the  upper  one — take  down  every  book  standing 
within  reach  of  a  woman  of  Mrs.  Quintard's 
height." 

"Hear  first  what  Mrs.  Quintard  has  to  say 
about  that,"  interrupted  the  woman  as  that  lady 
entered  in  a  flutter  of  emotion  springing  from  more 
than  one  cause. 

"The  young  lady  thinks  that  we  should  remove 
the  books,"  Hetty  observed,  as  her  mistress's  eye 
wandered  to  hers  from  Violet's  abstracted 
countenance. 

"Useless.  If  we  were  to  undertake  to  do  that, 
Carlos  would  be  here  before  half  the  job  was 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      167 

finished.  Besides,  Hetty  must  have  told  you  my 
extreme  aversion  to  nicely  bound  books.  I  will 
not  say  that  when  awake  I  never  place  my  hand 
on  one,  but  once  in  a  state  of  somnambulism,  when 
every  natural  whim  has  full  control,  I  am  sure  that 
I  never  would.  There  is  a  reason  for  my  prejudice. 
I  was  not  always  rich.  I  once  was  very  poor.  It 
was  when  I  was  first  married  and  long  before 
Clement  had  begun  to  make  his  fortune.  I  was 
so  poor  then  that  frequently  I  went  hungry,  and 
what  was  worse  saw  my  little  daughter  cry  for 
food.  And  why?  Because  my  husband  was  a 
bibliomaniac.  He  would  spend  on  fine  editions 
what  would  have  kept  the  family  comfortable.  It 
is  hard  to  believe,  isn't  it?  I  have  seen  him  bring 
home  a  Grolier  when  the  larder  was  as  empty  as 
that  box;  and  it  made  me  hate  books  so,  especially 
those  of  extra  fine  binding,  that  I  have  to  tear  the 
covers  off  before  I  can  find  courage  to  read  them. " 

0  life !  life !  how  fast  Violet  was  learning  it ! 

"I  can  understand  your  idea,  Mrs.  Quintard, 
but  as  everything  else  has  failed,  I  should  make  a 
mistake  not  to  examine  these  shelves.  It  is 
just  possible  that  we  may  be  able  to  shorten  the 
task  very  materially ;  that  we  may  not  have  to  call 
in  help,  even.  To  what  extent  have  they  been 
approached,  or  the  books  handled,  since  you  dis- 


i68  The  Dreaming  Lady 

covered  the  loss  of  the  paper  we  are  looking 
for?" 

"Not  at  all.  Neither  of  us  went  near  them." 
This  from  Hetty. 

' '  Nor  any  one  else  ? ' ' 

"No  one  else  has  been  admitted  to  the  room. 
We  locked  both  doors  the  moment  we  felt  satisfied 
that  the  will  had  been  left  here." 

"That's  a  relief.  Now  I  may  be  able  to  do 
something.  Hetty,  you  look  like  a  very  strong 
woman,  and  I,  as  you  see,  am  very  little.  Would 
you  mind  lifting  me  up  to  these  shelves?  I  want 
to  look  at  them.  Not  at  the  books,  but  at  the 
shelves  themselves." 

The  wondering  woman  stooped  and  raised  her 
to  the  level  of  the  shelf  she  had  pointed  out. 
Violet  peered  closely  at  it  and  then  at  the  ones 
just  beneath. 

"Am  I  heavy?"  she  asked;  "if  not,  let  me  see 
those  on  the  other  side  of  the  door. " 

Hetty  carried  her  over. 

Violet  inspected  each  shelf  as  high  as  a  woman 
of  Mrs.  Quintard's  stature  could  reach,  and  when 
on  her  feet  again,  knelt  to  inspect  the  ones  below. 

"No  one  has  touched  or  drawn  anything  from 
these  shelves  in  twenty-four  hours, "  she  declared. 
"The  small  accumulation  of  dust  along  their  edges 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      169 

has  not  been  disturbed  at  any  point.  It  was  very 
different  with  the  table- top.  That  shows  very 
plainly  where  you  had  moved  things  and  where 
you  had  not." 

"Was  that  what  you  were  looking  for?  Well, 
I  never!" 

Violet  paid  no  heed;  she  was  thinking  and 
thinking  very  deeply. 

Hetty  turned  towards  her  mistress,  then  quickly 
back  to  Violet,  whom  she  seized  by  the  arm. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Quintard?" 
she  hurriedly  asked.  "If  it  were  night,  I  should 
think  that  she  was  in  one  of  her  spells. " 

Violet  started  and  glanced  where  Hetty  pointed. 
Mrs.  Quintard  was  within  a  few  feet  of  them,  but 
as  oblivious  of  their  presence  as  though  she  stood 
alone  in  the  room.  Possibly,  she  thought  she  did. 
With  fixed  eyes  and  mechanical  step  she  began  to 
move  straight  towards  the  table,  her  whole  ap 
pearance  of  a  nature  to  make  Hetty's  blood  run 
cold,  but  to  cause  that  of  Violet's  to  bound 
through  her  veins  with  renewed  hope. 

"The  one  thing  I  could  have  wished!"  she  mur 
mured  under  her  breath.  "She  has  fallen  into 
a  trance.  She  is  again  under  the  dominion  of 
her  idea.  If  we  watch  and  do  not  disturb  her 
she  may  repeat  her  action  of  last  night,  and 


170  The  Dreaming  Lady 

herself  show  where  she  has  put  this  precious 
document." 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Quintard  continued  to  advance. 
A  moment  more,  and  her  smooth  white  locks 
caught  the  ruddy  glow  centred  upon  the  chair 
standing  in  the  hollow  of  the  table.  Words 
were  leaving  her  lips,  and  her  hand,  reaching 
out  over  the  blotter,  groped  among  the  articles 
scattered  there  till  it  settled  on  a  large  pair  of 
shears. 

"Listen,"  muttered  Violet  to  the  woman 
pressing  close  to  her  side.  "You  are  acquaint 
ed  with  her  voice;  catch  what  she  says  if  you 


can.' 


Hetty  could  not;  an  undistinguishable  murmur 
was  all  that  came  to  her  ears. 

Violet  took  a  step  nearer.  Mrs.  Quintard's 
hand  had  left  the  shears  and  was  hovering  uncer 
tainly  in  the  air.  Her  distress  was  evident.  Her 
head,  no  longer  steady  on  her  shoulders,  was  turn 
ing  this  way  and  that,  and  her  tones  becoming 
inarticulate. 

"Paper!  I  want  paper";  burst  from  her  lips 
in  a  shrill  unnatural  cry. 

But  when  they  listened  for  more  and  watched 
to  see  the  uncertain  hand  settle  somewhere,  she 
suddenly  came  to  herself  and  turned  upon  them 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      171 

a  startled  glance,  which  speedily  changed  into  one 
of  the  utmost  perplexity. 

"What  am  I  doing  here?"  she  asked.  "I  have 
a  feeling  as  if  I  had  almost  seen — almost  touched — 
oh,  it's  gone!  and  all  is  blank  again.  "Why 
couldn't  I  keep  it  till  I  knew — "  Then  she  came 
wholly  to  herself  and,  forgetting  even  the  doubts 
of  a  moment  since,  remarked  to  Violet  in  her  old 
tremulous  fashion: 

"You  asked  us  to  pull  down  the  books?  But 
you've  evidently  thought  better  of  it. " 

' '  Yes,  I  have  thought  better  of  it . "  Then,  with 
a  last  desperate  hope  of  re-arousing  the  visions 
lying  somewhere  back  in  Mrs.  Quintard's  troubled 
brain,  Violet  ventured  to  observe:  "This  is  likely 
to  resolve  itself  into  a  psychological  problem,  Mrs. 
Quintard.  Do  you  suppose  that  if  you  fell  again 
into  the  condition  of  last  night,  you  would  repeat 
your  action  and  so  lead  us  yourself  to  where  the 
will  lies  hidden?" 

"Possibly;  but  it  may  be  weeks  before  I  walk 
again  in  my  sleep,  and  meanwhile  Carlos  will  have 
arrived,  and  Clement,  possibly,  died.  My  nephew 
is  so  low  that  the  doctor  is  coming  back  at  mid 
night.  Miss  Strange,  Clement  is  a  man  in  a 
thousand.  He  says  he  wants  to  see  you.  Would 
you  be  willing  to  accompany  me  to  his  room  for  a 


172  The  Dreaming  Lady 

moment?  He  will  not  make  many  more  requests, 
and  I  will  take  care  that  the  interview  is  not 
prolonged." 

' '  I  will  go  willingly.  But  would  it  not  be  better 
to  wait " 

"Then  you  may  never  see  him  at  all. " 

"Very  well;  but  I  wish  I  had  some  better  news 
to  give." 

"That  will  come  later.  This  house  was  never 
meant  for  Carlos.  Hetty,  you  will  stay  here. 
Miss  Strange,  let  us  go  now." 

"You  need  not  speak;  just  let  him  see  you." 
Violet  nodded  and  followed  Mrs.  Quintard  into 
the  sick-room. 

The  sight  which  met  her  eyes  tried  her  young 
emotions  deeply.  Staring  at  her  from  the  bed, 
she  saw  two  piercing  eyes  over  whose  brilliance 
death  as  yet  had  gained  no  control.  Clement's 
soul  was  in  that  gaze;  Clement  halting  at  the 
brink  of  dissolution  to  sound  the  depths  behind 
him  for  the  hope  which  would  make  departure 
easy.  Would  he  see  in  her,  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl 
dressed  in  fashionable  clothes  and  bearing  about 
her  all  the  marks  of  social  distinction,  the  sort  of 
person  needed  for  the  task  upon  the  success  of 
which  depended  his  darlings'  future?  She  could 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      173 

hardly  expect  it.  Yet  as  she  continued  to  meet  his 
gaze  with  all  the  seriousness  the  moment  demanded, 
she  beheld  those  burning  orbs  lose  some  of  their 
demand  and  the  ringers,  which  had  lain  inert  upon 
the  bedspread,  flutter  gently  and  move  as  if  to 
draw  attention  to  his  wife  and  the  three  beautiful 
children  clustered  at  the  foot-board. 

He  had  not  spoken  nor  could  she  speak,  but  the 
solemnity  with  which  she  raised  her  right  hand 
as  to  a  listening  Heaven  called  forth  upon  his  lips 
what  was  possibly  his  last  smile,  and  with  the  mem 
ory  of  this  faint  expression  of  confidence  on  his 
part,  she  left  the  room,  to  make  her  final  attempt 
to  solve  the  mystery  of  the  missing  document. 

Facing  the  elderly  lady  in  the  hall,  she  addressed 
her  with  the  force  and  soberness  of  one  leading  a 
forlorn  hope : 

"I  want  you  to  concentrate  your  mind  upon 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  Do  you  think  you  can 
do  this?" 

"I  will  try,"  replied  the  poor  woman  with  a 
backward  glance  at  the  door  which  had  just  been 
closed  upon  her. 

''What  we  want,"  said  she,  "is,  as  I  stated  be 
fore,  an  insight  into  the  workings  of  your  brain 
at  the  time  you  took  the  will  from  the  safe.  Try 
and  follow  what  I  have  to  say,  Mrs.  Quintard. 


174  The  Dreaming  Lady 

Dreams  are  no  longer  regarded  by  scientists  as 
prophecies  of  the  future  or  even  as  spontaneous 
and  irrelevant  conditions  of  thought,  but  as  re 
flections  of  a  near  past,  which  can  almost  without 
exception  be  traced  back  to  the  occurrences  which 
caused  them.  Your  action  with  the  will  had  its 
birth  in  some  previous  line  of  thought  afterwards 
forgotten.  Let  us  try  and  find  that  thought. 
Recall,  if  you  can,  just  what  you  did  or  read 
yesterday." 

Mrs.  Quintard  looked  frightened. 

"But,  I  have  no  memory,"  she  objected.  "I 
forget  quickly,  so  quickly  that  in  order  to  fulfil 
my  engagements  I  have  to  keep  a  memorandum 
of  every  day's  events.  Yesterday?  yesterday? 
What  did  I  do  yesterday?  I  went  downtown  for 
one  thing,  but  I  hardly  know  where." 

"Perhaps  your  memorandum  of  yesterday's 
doings  will  help  you." 

"I  will  get  it.  But  it  won't  give  you  the 
least  help.  I  keep  it  only  for  my  own  eye, 
and " 

"Never  mind;  let  me  see  it." 

And  she  waited  impatiently  for  it  to  be  put  in 
her  hands. 

But  when  she  came  to  read  the  record  of  the 
last  two  days,  this  was  all  she  found : 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      175 

Saturday:  Mauretania  nearly  due.  I  must  let 
Mr.  Delahunt  know  to-day  that  he's  wanted  here 
to-morrow.  Hetty  will  try  on  my  dresses.  Says 
she  has  to  alter  them.  Mrs.  Peabody  came  to 
lunch,  and  we  in  such  trouble!  Had  to  go  down 
street.  Errand  for  Clement.  The  will,  the  will! 
I  think  of  nothing  else.  Is  it  safe  where  it  is? 
No  peace  of  mind  till  to-morrow.  Clement  better 
this  afternoon.  Says  he  must  live  till  Carlos  gets 
back;  not  to  triumph  over  him,  but  to  do  what 
he  can  to  lessen  his  disappointment.  My  good 
Clement ! 

So  nervous,  I  went  to  pasting  photographs,  and 
was  forgetting  all  my  troubles  when  Hetty  brought 
in  another  dress  to  try  on. 

Quiet  in  the  great  house,  during  which  the  clock 
on  the  staircase  sent  forth  seven  musical  peals.  To 
Violet  waiting  alone  in  the  library,  they  acted  as  a 
summons.  She  was  just  leaving  the  room,  when 
the  sound  of  hubbub  in  the  hall  below  held  her 
motionless  in  the  doorway.  An  automobile  had 
stopped  in  front,  and  several  persons  were  entering 
the  house,  in  a  gay  and  unseemly  fashion.  As  she 
stood  listening,  uncertain  of  her  duty,  she  perceived 
the  frenzied  figure  of  Mrs.  Quintard  approaching. 


176  The  Dreaming  Lady 

As  she  passed  by,  she  dropped  one  word : ' '  Carlos ! ' ' 
Then  she  went  staggering  on,  to  disappear  a 
moment  later  down  the  stairway. 

This  vision  lost,  another  came.  This  time  it  was 
that  of  Clement's  wife  leaning  from  the  marble 
balustrade  above,  the  shadow  of  approaching 
grief  battling  with  the  present  terror  in  her  perfect 
features.  Then  she  too  withdrew  from  view  and 
Violet,  left  for  the  moment  alone  in  the  great  hall, 
stepped  back  into  the  library  and  began  to  put  on 
her  hat. 

The  lights  had  been  turned  up  in  the  grand  salon 
and  it  was  in  this  scene  of  gorgeous  colour  that 
Mrs.  Quintard  came  face  to  face  with  Carlos 
Pelacios.  Those  who  were  witness  to  her  en 
trance  say  that  she  presented  a  noble  appearance, 
as  with  the  resolution  of  extreme  desperation  she 
stood  waiting  for  his  first  angry  attack. 

He,  a  short,  thick-set,  dark  man,  showing  both 
in  features  and  expression  the  Spanish  blood  of 
his  paternal  ancestors,  started  to  address  her  in 
tones  of  violence,  but  changed  his  note,  as  he  met 
her  eye,  to  one  simply  sardonic. 

' '  You  here ! "  he  began.  ' '  I  assure  you,  madame, 
that  it  is  a  pleasure  which  is  not  without  its  in 
conveniences.  Did  you  not  receive  my  cable- 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      177 

gram  requesting  this  house  to  be  made  ready  for 
my  occupancy?" 

"I  did." 

"Then  why  do  I  find  guests  here?  They  do 
not  usually  precede  the  arrival  of  their  host. " 

"Clement  is  very  ill " 

"So  much  the  greater  reason  that  he  should  have 
been  removed " 

"You  were  not  expected  for  two  days  yet. 
You  cabled  that  you  were  coming  on  the 
Mauretania. " 

"Yes,  I  cabled  that.  Elisabetta,"— this  to  his 
wife  standing  silently  in  the  background — "we  will 
go  to  the  Plaza  for  to-night.  At  three  o'clock  to 
morrow  we  shall  expect  to  find  this  house  in  readi 
ness  for  our  return.  Later,  if  Mrs.  Quintard 
desires  to  visit  us  we  shall  be  pleased  to  receive  her. 
But" — this  to  Mrs.  Quintard  herself — "you  must 
come  without  Clement  and  the  kids." 

Mrs.  Quintard' s  rigid  hand  stole  up  to  her  throat. 

"Clement  is  dying.  He  is  failing  hourly,"  she 
murmured.  "He  may  not  live  till  morning." 

Even  Carlos  was  taken  aback  by  this. 

"Oh,  well!"  said  he,  "we  will  give  you  two 
days." 

Mrs.  Quintard  gasped,  then  she  walked  straight 
up  to  him. 


1 78  The  Dreaming  Lady 

"You  will  give  us  all  the  time  his  condition 
requires  and  more,  much  more.  He  is  the  real 
owner  of  this  house,  not  you.  My  brother  left  a 
will  bequeathing  it  to  him.  You  are  my  nephew's 
guests,  and  not  he  yours.  As  his  representative 
I  entreat  you  and  your  wife  to  remain  here  until 
you  can  find  a  home  to  your  mind. " 

The  silence  seethed.  Carlos  had  a  temper  of 
fire  and  so  had  his  wife.  But  neither  spoke,  till 
he  had  gained  sufficient  control  over  himself  to 
remark  without  undue  rancour : 

"I  did  not  think  you  had  the  wit  to  influence 
your  brother  to  this  extent;  otherwise,  I  should 
have  cut  my  travels  short."  Then  harshly: 
"Where  is  this  will?" 

'  *  It  will  be  produced. "     But  the  words  faltered. 

Carlos  glanced  at  the  man  standing  behind  his 
wife;  then  back  at  Mrs.  Quintard. 

"Wills  are  not  scribbled  off  on  deatxi-oeds;  or  if 
they  are,  it  needs  something  more  than  a  signature 
to  legalize  them.  I  don't  believe  in  this  trick  of 
a  later  will.  Mr.  Cavanagh" — here  he  indicated 
the  gentleman  accompanying  them — "has  done 
my  father's  business  for  years,  and  he  assured  me 
that  the  paper  he  holds  in  his  pocket  is  the  first, 
last,  and  only  expression  of  your  brother's  wishes. 
If  you  are  in  a  position  to  deny  this,  show  us  the 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      179 

document  you  mention;  show  us  it  at  once,  or  in 
form  us  where  and  in  whose  hands  it  can  be 
found." 

"That,  for — for  reasons  I  cannot  give,  I  must 
refuse  to  do  at  present.  But  I  am  ready  to 
swear " 

A  mocking  laugh  cut  her  short.  Did  it  issue 
from  his  lips  or  from  those  of  his  highstrung  and 
unfeeling  wife.  It  might  have  come  from  either; 
there  was  cause  enough. 

"Oh!"  she  faltered,  "may  God  have  mercy!" 
and  was  sinking  before  their  eyes,  when  she  heard 
her  name  called  from  the  threshold,  and,  looking 
that  way,  saw  Hetty  beaming  upon  her,  backed  by 
a  little  figure  with  a  face  so  radiant  that  instinc 
tively  her  hand  went  out  to  grasp  the  folded  sheet 
of  paper  Hetty  was  seeking  to  thrust  upon  her. 

"Ah!"  she  cried,  in  a  great  voice,  "you  will  not 
have  to  wait,  nor  Clement  either.  Here  is  the 
will!  The  children  have  come  into  their  own." 
And  she  fell  at  their  feet  in  a  dead  faint. 

"Where  did  you  find  it?  Oh!  where  did  you 
find  it?  I  have  waited  a  week  to  know.  When, 
after  Carlos' s  sudden  departure,  I  stood  beside 
Clement's  death-bed  and  saw  from  the  look  he 
gave  me  that  he  could  still  feel  and  understand, 


i8o  The  Dreaming  Lady 

I  told  him  that  you  had  succeeded  in  your  task 
and  that  all  was  well  with  us.  But  I  was  not  able 
to  tell  him  how  you  had  succeeded  or  in  what  place 
the  will  had  been  found;  and  he  died,  unknowing. 
But  we  may  know,  may  we  not,  now  that  he  is 
laid  away  and  there  is  no  more  talk  of  our  leaving 
this  house?" 

Violet  smiled,  but  very  tenderly,  and  in  a  way 
not  to  offend  the  mourner.  They  were  sitting  in 
the  library — the  great  library  which  was  to  remain 
in  Clement's  family  after  all — and  it  amused  her  to 
follow  the  dreaming  lady's  glances  as  they  ran  in 
irrepressible  curiosity  over  the  walls.  Had  Violet 
wished,  she  could  have  kept  her  secret  forever. 
These  eyes  would  never  have  discovered  it. 

But  she  was  of  a  sympathetic  temperament,  our 
Violet,  so  after  a  moment's  delay,  during  which 
she  satisfied  herself  that  little,  if  anything,  had 
been  touched  in  the  room  since  her  departure  from 
it  a  week  before,  she  quietly  observed : 

"You  were  right  in  persisting  that  you  hid  it  in 
this  room.  It  was  here  I  found  it.  Do  you  notice 
that  photograph  on  the  mantel  which  does  not 
stand  exactly  straight  on  its  easel?" 

"Yes." 

"Supposing  you  take  it  down.  You  can  reach 
it,  can  you  not?" 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      181 

"Oh,  yes.     But  what " 

"Lift  it  down,  dear  Mrs.  Quintard;  and  then 
turn  it  round  and  look  at  its  back. " 

Agitated  and  questioning,  the  lady  did  as  she 
was  bid,  and  at  the  first  glance  gave  a  cry  of  sur 
prise,  if  not  of  understanding.  The  square  of 
brown  paper,  acting  as  a  backing  to  the  picture, 
was  slit  across,  disclosing  a  similar  one  behind  it 
which  was  still  intact. 

"Oh!  was  it  hidden  in  here?"  she  asked. 

"Very  completely,"  assented  Violet.  "Pasted 
in  out  of  sight  by  a  lady  who  amuses  herself  with 
mounting  and  framing  photographs.  Usually, 
she  is  conscious  of  her  work,  but  this  time  she 
performed  her  task  in  a  dream. " 

Mrs.  Quintard  was  all  amazement. 

"I  don't  remember  touching  these  pictures/' 
she  declared.  "I  never  should  have  remembered. 
You  are  a  wonderful  person,  Miss  Strange.  How 
came  you  to  think  these  photographs  might  have 
two  backings?  There  was  nothing  to  show  that 
this  was  so." 

"I  will  tell  you,  Mrs.  Quintard.     You  helped 


me." 


«"I  helped  you?" 

"Yes.     You  remember  the  memorandum  you 
gave  me?     In  it  you  mentioned  pasting  photo- 


1 82  The  Dreaming  Lady 

graphs.  But  this  was  not  enough  in  itself  to  lead 
me  to  examine  those  on  the  mantel,  if  you  had  not 
given  me  another  suggestion  a  little  while  before. 
We  did  not  tell  you  this,  Mrs.  Quintard,  at  the 
time,  but  during  the  search  we  were  making  here 
that  day,  you  had  a  lapse  into  that  peculiar  state 
which  induces  you  to  walk  in  your  sleep.  It  was 
a  short  one,  lasting  but  a  moment,  but  in  a  moment 
one  can  speak,  and  this  you  did " 

" Spoke?     I  spoke?" 

"Yes,  you  uttered  the  word  'paper!'  not  the 
paper,  but  'paper!'  and  reached  out  towards  the 
shears.  Though  I  had  not  much  time  to  think  of 
it  then,  afterwards  upon  reading  your  memoran 
dum  I  recalled  your  words,  and  asked  myself  if  it 
was  not  paper  to  cut,  rather  than  to  hide,  you 
wanted.  If  it  was  to  cut,  and  you  were  but  repeat 
ing  the  experience  of  the  night  before,  then  the 
room  should  contain  some  remnants  of  cut  paper. 
Had  we  seen  any?  Yes,  in  the  basket,  under  the 
desk  we  had  taken  out  and  thrown  back  again  a 
strip  or  so  of  wrapping  paper,  which,  if  my  memory 
did  not  fail  me,  showed  a  clean-cut  edge.  To  pull 
this  strip  out  again  and  spread  it  flat  upon  the  desk 
was  the  work  of  a  minute,  and  what  I  saw  led  me 
to  look  all  over  the  room,  not  now  for  the  folded 
document,  but  for  a  square  of  brown  paper,  such. 


Problem  5  for  Violet  Strange      183 

as  had  been  taken  out  of  this  larger  sheet.  Was 
I  successful?  Not  for  a  long  while,  but  when  I 
came  to  the  photographs  on  the  mantel  and  saw 
how  nearly  they  corresponded  in  shape  and  size 
to  what  I  was  looking  for,  I  recalled  again  your 
fancy  for  mounting  photographs  and  felt  that  the 
mystery  was  solved. 

"A  glance  at  the  back  of  one  of  them  brought 
disappointment,  but  when  I  turned  about  its 
mate —  You  know  what  I  found  underneath  the 
outer  paper.  You  had  laid  the  will  against  the 
original  backing  and  simply  pasted  another  one 
over  it. 

"That  the  discovery  came  in  time  to  cut  short 
a  very  painful  interview  has  made  me  joyful  for  a 
week. 

"And  now  may  I  see  the  children? " 


END  OF  PROBLEM  V 


PROBLEM  VI 

THE  HOUSE  OF   CLOCKS 


IV /t  ISS  STRANGE  was  not  in  a  responsive  mood. 
*  This  her  employer  had  observed  on  first 
entering;  yet  he  showed  no  hesitation  in  laying  on 
the  table  behind  which  she  had  ensconced  herself 
in  the  attitude  of  one  besieged,  an  envelope  thick 
with  enclosed  papers. 

"There,"  said  he.  " Telephone  me  when  you 
have  read  them." 

"I  shall  not  read  them." 

"No?"  he  smiled;  and,  repossessing  himself  of 
the  envelope,  he  tore  off  one  end,  extracted  the 
sheets  with  which  it  was  filled,  and  laid  them  down, 
still  unfolded,  in  their  former  place  on  the  table- top. 

The  suggestiveness  of  the  action  caused  the 
corners  of  Miss  Strange 's  delicate  lips  to  twitch 
wistfully,  before  settling  into  an  ironic  smile. 

Calmly  the  other  watched  her. 
184 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      185 

"I  am  on  a  vacation,"  she  loftily  explained,  as 
she  finally  met  his  studiously  non-quizzical  glance. 
"Oh,  I  know  that  I  am  in  my  own  home!"  she 
petulantly  acknowledged,  as  his  gaze  took  in  the 
room;  "and  that  the  automobile  is  at  the  door; 
and  that  I'm  dressed  for  shopping.  But  for  all 
that  I'm  on  a  vacation — a  mental  one,"  she 
emphasized;  "and  business  must  wait.  I  haven't 
got  over  the  last  affair, "  she  protested,  as  he  main 
tained  a  discreet  silence,  "and  the  season  is  so  gay 
just  now — so  many  balls,  so  many —  But  that  isn't 
the  worst.  Father  is  beginning  to  wake  up — and 
if  he  ever  suspects — "  A  significant  gesture  ended 
this  appeal. 

The  personage  knew  her  father — everyone  did — 
and  the  wonder  had  always  been  that  she  dared 
run  the  risk  of  displeasing  one  so  implacable. 
Though  she  was  his  favourite  child,  Peter  Strange 
was  known  to  be  quite  capable  of  cutting  her  off 
with  a  shilling,  once  his  close,  prejudiced  mind  con 
ceived  it  to  be  his  duty.  And  that  he  would  so 
interpret  the  situation,  if  he  ever  came  to  learn  the 
secret  of  his  daughter's  fits  of  abstraction  and  the  sly 
bank  account  she  was  slowly  accumulating,  the 
personage  holding  out  this  dangerous  lure  had  no 
doubt  at  all.  Yet  he  only  smiled  at  her  words  and 
remarked  in  casual  suggestion: 


186  The  House  of  Clocks 

"It's  out  of  town  this  time — 'way  out.  Your 
health  certainly  demands  a  change  of  air." 

"My  health  is  good.  Fortunately,  or  unfor 
tunately,  as  one  may  choose  to  look  at  it,  it 
furnishes  me  with  no  excuse  for  an  outing,"  she 
steadily  retorted,  turning  her  back  on  the  table. 

"Ah,  excuse  me!"  the  insidious  voice  apologized, 
"your  paleness  misled  me.  Surely  a  night  or  two's 
change  might  be  beneficial." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  side  look,  and  began  to 
adjust  her  boa. 

To  this  hint  he  paid  no  attention. 

"The  affair  is  quite  out  of  the  ordinary,"  he 
pursued  in  the  tone  of  one  rehearsing  a  part.  But 
there  he  stopped.  For  some  reason,  not  altogether 
apparent  to  the  masculine  mind,  the  pin  of  flashing 
stones  (real  stones)  which  held  her  hat  in  place  had 
to  be  taken  out  and  thrust  back  again,  not  once, 
but  twice.  It  was  to  watch  this  performance  he 
had  paused.  When  he  was  ready  to  proceed,  he 
took  the  musing  tone  of  one  marshalling  facts  for 
another's  enlightenment : 

"A  woman  of  unknown  instincts " 

"Pshaw!"  The  end  of  the  pin  would  strike 
against  the  comb  holding  Violet's  chestnut-col 
oured  locks. 

"Living  in  a  house  as  mysterious  as  the  secret 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      187 

it  contains.  But—  "  here  he  allowed  his  patience 
apparently  to  forsake  him,  "I  will  bore  you  no 
longer.  Go  to  your  teas  and  balls;  I  will  struggle 
with  my  dark  affairs  alone. " 

His  hand  went  to  the  packet  of  papers  she 
affected  so  ostentatiously  to  despise.  He  could 
be  as  nonchalant  as  she.  But  he  did  not  lift  them; 
he  let  them  lie.  Yet  the  young  heiress  had  not 
made  a  movement  or  even  turned  the  slightest 
glance  his  way. 

"A  woman  difficult  to  understand!  A  mys 
terious  house — possibly  a  mysterious  crime!" 

Thus  Violet  kept  repeating  in  silent  self-com 
munion,  as  flushed  with  dancing  she  sat  that  even 
ing  in  a  highly-scented  conservatory,  dividing  her 
attention  between  the  compliments  of  her  partner 
and  the  splash  of  a  fountain  bubbling  in  the  heart 
of  this  mass  of  tropical  foliage;  and  when  some 
hours  later  she  sat  down  in  her  chintz-furnished 
bedroom  for  a  few  minutes'  thought  before  retir 
ing,  it  was  to  draw  from  a  little  oak  box  at  her 
elbow  the  half-dozen  or  so  folded  sheets  of  closely 
written  paper  which  had  been  left  for  her  perusal 
by  her  persistent  employer. 

Glancing  first  at  the  signature  and  finding  it  to 
be  one  already  favourably  known  at  the  bar,  she 


188  The  House  of  Clocks 

read  with  avidity  the  statement  of  events  thus 
vouched  for,  finding  them  curious  enough  in  all 
conscience  to  keep  her  awake  for  another  full 
hour. 

We  here  subscribe  it: 

I  am  a  lawyer  with  an  office  in  the  Times  Square 
Building.  My  business  is  mainly  local,  but  some 
times  I  am  called  out  of  town,  as  witness  the  follow 
ing  summons  received  by  me  on  the  fifth  of  last 
October. 

DEAR  SIR, — 

I  wish  to  make  my  will.  I  am  an  invalid  and 
cannot  leave  my  room.  Will  you  come  to  me? 
The  enclosed  reference  will  answer  for  my  respecta 
bility.  If  it  satisfies  you  and  you  decide  to 
accommodate  me,  please  hasten  your  visit ;  I  have 
not  many  days  to  live.  A  carriage  will  meet  you 
at  Highland  Station  at  any  hour  you  designate. 
Telegraph  reply. 

A.  Postlethwaite, 

Gloom  Cottage, 


N.J. 

The  reference  given  was  a  Mr.  Weed  of  Eighty- 
sixth  Street — a  well-known  man  of  unimpeachable 
reputation. 

Calling  him  up  at  his  business  office,  I  asked  him 
what  he  could  tell  me  about  Mr.  Postlethwaite 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      189 

of  Gloom  Cottage,  ,  N.  J.  The  answer 

astonished  me: 

"There  is  no  Mr.  Postlethwaite  to  be  found  at 
that  address.  He  died  years  ago.  There  is  a 
Mrs.  Postlethwaite — a  confirmed  paralytic.  Do 
you  mean  her?" 

I  glanced  at  the  letter  still  lying  open  at  the  side 
of  the  telephone. 

"The  signature  reads  A.  Postlethwaite.'1 

"Then  it's  she.  Her  name  is  Arabella.  She 
hates  the  name,  being  a  woman  of  no  sentiment. 
Uses  her  initials  even  on  her  cheques.  What  does 
she  want  of  you?" 

"To  draw  her  will." 

"Oblige  her.  It '11  be  experience  for  you."  And 
he  slammed  home  the  receiver. 

I  decided  to  follow  the  suggestion  so  forcibly 
emphasized ;  and  the  next  day  saw  me  at  Highland 
Station.  A  superannuated  horse  and  a  still  more 
superannuated  carriage  awaited  me — both  too  old 
to  serve  a  busy  man  in  these  days  of  swift  convey 
ance.  Could  this  be  a  sample  of  fhe  establishment 
I  was  about  to  enter?  Then  I  remembered  that 
the  woman  who  had  sent  for  me  was  a  helpless 
invalid,  and  probably  had  no  use  for  any  sort  of 
turnout. 

The  driver  was  in  keeping  with  the  vehicle,  and 


190  The  House  of  Clocks 

as  noncommittal  as  the  plodding  beast  he  drove. 
If  I  ventured  upon  a  remark,  he  gave  me  a  long  and 
curious  look ;  if  I  went  so  far  as  to  attack  him  with 
a  direct  question,  he  responded  with  a  hitch  of  the 
shoulder  or  a  dubious  smile  which  conveyed  noth 
ing.  Was  he  deaf  or  just  unpleasant?  I  soon 
learned  that  he  was  not  deaf ;  for  suddenly,  after  a 
jog-trot  of  a  mile  or  so  through  a  wooded  road 
which  we  had  entered  from  the  main  highway,  he 
drew  in  his  horse,  and,  without  glancing  my  way, 
spoke  his  first  word : 

"This  is  where  you  get  out.  The  house  is  back 
there  in  the  bushes. " 

As  no  house  was  visible  and  the  bushes  rose  in 
an  unbroken  barrier  along  the  road,  I  stared  at 
him  in  some  doubt  of  his  sanity. 

"But—  '  I  began;  a  protest  into  which  he  at 
once  broke,  with  the  sharp  direction: 

"Take  the  path.  It'll  lead  you  straight  to  the 
front  door." 

"I  don't  see  any  path." 

For  this  he  had  no  answer;  and  confident  from 
his  expression  that  it  would  be  useless  to  expect 
anything  further  from  him,  I  dropped  a  coin  into 
his  hand,  and  jumped  to  the  ground.  He  was  off 
before  I  could  turn  myself  about. 

"  'Something  is  rotten  in  the  State  of  Denmark, ' ' 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      191 

I  quoted  in  startled  comment  to  myself;  and  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  stared  down  at  the  turf 
at  my  feet. 

A  bit  of  flagging  met  my  eye,  protruding  from  a 
layer  of  thick  moss.  Farther  on  I  espied  another 
— the  second,  probably,  of  many.  This,  no  doubt, 
was  the  path  I  had  been  bidden  to  follow,  and 
without  further  thought  on  the  subject,  I  plunged 
into  the  bushes  which  with  difficulty  I  made  give 
way  before  me. 

For  a  moment  all  further  advance  looked  hope 
less.  A  more  tangled,  uninviting  approach  to  a 
so-called  home,  I  had  never  seen  outside  of  the 
tropics;  and  the  complete  neglect  thus  displayed 
should  have  prepared  me  for  the  appearance  of 
the  house  I  unexpectedly  came  upon,  just  as  the 
wray  seemed  on  the  point  of  closing  up  before 
me. 

But  nothing  could  well  prepare  one  for  a  first 
view  of  Gloom  Cottage.  Its  location  in  a  hollow 
which  had  gradually  filled  itself  up  with  trees  and 
some  kind  of  prickly  brush,  its  deeply  stained 
walls,  once  picturesque  enough  in  their  grouping 
but  too  deeply  hidden  now  amid  rotting  boughs 
to  produce  any  other  effect  than  that  of  shrouded 
desolation,  the  sough  of  these  same  boughs  as  they 
rapped  a  devil's  tattoo  against  each  other,  and  the 


192  The  House  of  Clocks 

absence  of  even  the  rising  column  of  smoke  which 
bespeaks  domestic  life  wherever  seen — all  gave  to 
one  who  remembered  the  cognomen  Cottage  and 
forgot  the  pre-cognomen  of  Gloom,  a  sense  of  buried 
life  as  sepulchral  as  that  which  emanates  from 
the  mouth  of  some  freshly  opened  tomb. 

But  these  impressions,  natural  enough  to  my 
youth,  were  necessarily  transient,  and  soon  gave 
way  to  others  more  business-like.  Perceiving  the 
curve  of  an  arch  rising  above  the  undergrowth 
still  blocking  my  approach,  I  pushed  my  way 
resolutely  through,  and  presently  found  myself 
stumbling  upon  the  steps  of  an  unexpectedly 
spacious  domicile,  built  not  of  wood,  as  its  name 
of  Cottage  had  led  me  to  expect,  but  of  carefully 
cut  stone  which,  while  showing  every  mark  of 
time,  proclaimed  itself  one  of  those  early,  carefully 
erected  Colonial  residences  which  it  takes  more 
than  a  century  to  destroy,  or  even  to  wear  to 
the  point  of  dilapidation. 

Somewhat  encouraged,  though  failing  to  detect 
any  signs  of  active  life  in  the  heavily  shuttered 
windows  frowning  upon  me  from  either  side,  I  ran 
up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell  which  pulled  as 
hard  as  if  no  hand  had  touched  it  in  years. 

Then  I  waited. 

But  not  to  ring  again;  for  just  as  my  hand  was 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      193 

approaching  the  bell  a  second  time,  the  door 
fell  back  and  I  beheld  in  the  black  gap  before  me 
the  oldest  man  I  had  ever  come  upon  in  my  whole 
life.  He  was  so  old  I  was  astonished  when  his 
drawn  lips  opened  and  he  asked  if  I  was  the  lawyer 
from  New  York.  I  would  as  soon  have  expected 
a  mummy  to  wag  its  tongue  and  utter  English, 
he  looked  so  thin  and  dried  and  removed  from  this 
life  and  all  worldly  concerns. 

But  when  I  had  answered  his  question  and  he 
had  turned  to  marshal  me  down  the  hall  towards  a 
door  I  could  dimly  see  standing  open  in  the  twilight 
of  an  absolutely  sunless  interior,  I  noticed  that 
his  step  was  not  without  some  vigour,  despite  the 
feeble  bend  of  his  withered  body  and  the  incessant 
swaying  of  his  head,  which  seemed  to  be  continu 
ally  saying  No! 

"I  will  prepare  madam,"  he  admonished  me, 
after  drawing  a  ponderous  curtain  two  inches  or 
less  aside  from  one  of  the  windows.  "She  is  very 
ill,  but  she  will  see  you." 

The  tone  was  senile,  but  it  was  the  senility  of 
an  educated  man,  and  as  the  cultivated  accents 
wavered  forth,  my  mind  changed  in  regard  to  the 
position  he  held  in  the  house.  Interested  anew, 
I  sought  to  give  him  another  look,  but  he  had 
already  vanished  through  the  doorway,  and  so 
13 


194  The  House  of  Clocks 

noiselessly,  it  was  more  like  a  shadow's  flitting  than 
a  man's  withdrawal. 

The  darkness  in  which  I  sat  was  absolute;  but 
gradually,  as  I  continued  to  look  about  me,  the 

spaces  lightened    and    certain   details  came   out, 

* 

which  to  my  astonishment  were  of  a  character  to 
show  that  the  plain  if  substantial  exterior  of  this 
house  with  its  choked-up  approaches  and  weedy 
gardens  was  no  sample  of  what  was  to  be  found 
inside.  Though  the  walls  surrounding  me  were 
dismal  because  unlighted,  they  betrayed  a  splen 
dour  unusual  in  any  country  house.  The  fres 
coes  and  paintings  were  of  an  ancient  order,  dating 
from  days  when  life  and  not  death  reigned  in  this 
isolated  dwelling;  but  in  them  high  art  reigned 
supreme,  an  art  so  high  and  so  finished  that  only 
great  wealth,  combined  with  the  most  cultivated 
taste,  could  have  produced  such  effects.  I  was 
still  absorbed  in  the  wonder  of  it  all,  when  the  quiet 
voice  of  the  old  gentleman  who  had  let  me  in 
reached  me  again  from  the  doorway,  and  I  heard: 

"Madam  is  ready  for  you.  May  I  trouble  you 
to  accompany  me  to  her  room. " 

I  rose  with  alacrity.  I  was  anxious  to  see  ma 
dam,  if  only  to  satisfy  myself  that  she  was  as 
interesting  as  the  house  in  which  she  was  self- 
immured. 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      195 

I  found  her  a  great  deal  more  so.  But  before  I 
enter  upon  our  interview,  let  me  mention  a  fact 
which  had  attracted  my  attention  in  my  passage 
to  her  room.  During  his  absence  my  guide  evi 
dently  had  pulled  aside  other  curtains  than  those 
of  the  room  in  which  he  had  left  me.  The  hall,  no 
longer  a  tunnel  of  darkness,  gave  me  a  glimpse  as 
we  went  by,  of  various  secluded  corners,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  everywhere  I  looked  I  saw — a  clock. 
I  counted  four  before  I  reached  the  staircase,  all 
standing  on  the  floor  and  all  of  ancient  make, 
though  differing  much  in  appearance  and  value. 
A  fifth  one  rose  grim  and  tall  at  the  stair  foot,  and 
under  an  impulse  I  have  never  understood  I 
stopped,  when  I  reached  it,  to  note  the  time. 
But  it  had  paused  in  its  task,  and  faced  me  with 
motionless  hands  and  silent  works — a  fact  which 
somehow  startled  me ;  perhaps,  because  just  then 
I  encountered  the  old  man's  eye  watching  me  with 
an  expression  as  challenging  as  it  was  unintelligible. 

I  had  expected  to  see  a  woman  in  bed.  I  saw 
instead,  a  woman  sitting  up.  You  felt  her 
influence  the  moment  you  entered  her  presence. 
She  was  not  young ;  she  was  not  beautiful ; — never 
had  been  I  should  judge, — she  had  not  even  the 
usual  marks  about  her  of  an  ultra  strong  person 
ality;  but  that  her  will  was  law,  had  always  been, 


196  The  House  of  Clocks 

and  would  continue  to  be  law  so  long  as  she  lived, 
was  patent  to  any  eye  at  the  first  glance.  She 
exacted  obedience  consciously  and  unconsciously, 
and  she  exacted  it  with  charm.  Some  few  people 
in  the  world  possess  this  power.  They  frown,  and 
the  opposing  will  weakens;  they  smile,  and  all 
hearts  succumb.  I  was  hers  from  the  moment  I 
crossed  the  threshold  till —  But  I  will  relate  the 
happenings  of  that  instant  when  it  comes. 

She  was  alone,  or  so  I  thought,  when  I  made  my 
first  bow  to  her  stern  but  not  unpleasing  presence. 
Seated  in  a  great  chair,  with  a  silver  tray  before 
her  containing  such  little  matters  as  she  stood  in 
hourly  need  of,  she  confronted  me  with  a  piercing 
gaze  startling  to  behold  in  eyes  so  colourless.  Then 
she  smiled,  and  in  obedience  to  that  smile  I  seated 
myself  in  a  chair  placed  very  near  her  own.  Was 
she  too  paralysed  to  express  herself  clearly?  I 
waited  in  some  anxiety  till  she  spoke,  when  this 
fear  vanished.  Her  voice  betrayed  the  character 
her  features  failed  to  express.  It  was  firm,  re 
sonant,  and  instinct  with  command.  Not  loud, 
but  penetrating,  and  of  a  quality  which  made  one 
listen  with  his  heart  as  well  as  with  his  ears.  What 
she  said  is  immaterial.  I  was  there  for  a  certain 
purpose  and  we  entered  immediately  upon  the 
business  of  that  purpose.  She  talked  and  I 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      197 

listened,  mostly  without  comment.  Only  once 
did  I  interrupt  her  with  a  suggestion;  and  as  this 
led  to  definite  results,  I  will  proceed  to  relate  the 
occurrence  in  full. 

In  the  few  hours  remaining  to  me  before  leaving 
New  York,  I  had  learned  (no  matter  how)  some 
additional  particulars  concerning  herself  and 
family;  and  when  after  some  minor  bequests, 
she  proceeded  to  name  the  parties  to  whom  she 
desired  to  leave  the  bulk  of  her  fortune,  I  ventured, 
with  some  astonishment  at  my  own  temerity,  to 
remark : 

"But  you  have  a  young  relative!  Is  she  not  to 
be  included  in  this  partition  of  your  property?" 

A  hush.  Then  a  smile  came  to  life  on  her  stiff 
lips,  such  as  is  seldom  seen,  thank  God,  on  the  face 
of  any  woman,  and  I  heard : 

"The  young  relative  of  whom  you  speak,  is  in  the 
room.  She  has  known  for  some  time  that  I  have 
no  intention  of  leaving  anything  to  her.  There  is, 
in  fact,  small  chance  of  her  ever  needing  it. " 

The  latter  sentence  was  a  muttered  one,  but 
that  it  was  loud  enough  to  be  heard  in  all  parts  of 
the  room  I  was  soon  assured.  For  a  quick  sigh, 
which  was  almost  a  gasp,  followed  from  a  corner 
I  had  hitherto  ignored,  and  upon  glancing  that 
way,  I  perceived,  peering  upon  us  from  the  shadows, 


198  The  House  of  Clocks 

the  white  face  of  a  young  girl  in  whose  drawn  fea 
tures  and  wide,  staring  eyes  I  beheld  such  evidences 
of  terror,  that  in  an  instant,  whatever  predilection 
I  had  hitherto  felt  for  my  client,  vanished  in  dis 
trust,  if  not  positive  aversion. 

I  was  still  under  the  sway  of  this  new  impression, 
when  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  voice  rose  again,  this 
time  addressing  the  young  girl: 

"You  may  go, "  she  said,  with  such  force  in  the 
command  for  all  its  honeyed  modulation,  that  I 
expected  to  see  its  object  fly  the  room  in  frightened 
obedience. 

But  though  the  startled  girl  had  lost  none  of  the 
terror  which  had  made  her  face  like  a  mask,  no 
power  of  movement  remained  to  her.  A  picture 
of  hopeless  misery,  she  stood  for  one  breathless 
moment,  with  her  eyes  fixed  in  unmistakable 
appeal  on  mine;  then  she  began  to  sway  so  help 
lessly  that  I  leaped  with  bounding  heart  to  catch 
her.  As  she  fell  into  my  arms  I  heard  her  sigh  as 
before.  No  common  anguish  spoke  in  that  sigh. 
I  had  stumbled  unwittingly  upon  a  tragedy,  to  the 
meaning  of  which  I  held  but  a  doubtful  key. 

"She  seems  very  ill,"  I  observed  with  some 
emphasis,  as  I  turned  to  lay  my  helpless  burden 
on  a  near-by  sofa. 

"She's  doomed." 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      199 

The  words  were  spoken  with  gloom  and  with  an 
attempt  at  commiseration  which  no  longer  rang 
true  in  my  ears. 

"She  is  as  sick  a  woman  as  I  am  myself";  con 
tinued  Mrs.  Postlethwaite.  "That  is  why  I 
made  the  remark  I  did,  never  imagining  she  would 
hear  me  at  that  distance.  Do  not  put  her  down. 
My  nurse  will  be  here  in  a  moment  to  relieve  you 
of  your  burden. " 

A  tinkle  accompanied  these  words.  The  reso 
lute  woman  had  stretched  out  a  finger,  of  whose  use 
she  was  not  quite  deprived,  and  touched  a  little 
bell  standing  on  the  tray  before  her,  an  inch  or 
two  from  her  hand. 

Pleased  to  obey  her  command,  I  paused  at  the 
sofa's  edge,  and  taking  advantage  of  the  momen 
tary  delay,  studied  the  youthful  countenance 
pressed  unconsciously  to  my  breast. 

It  was  one  whose  appeal  lay  less  in  its  beauty, 
though  that  was  of  a  touching  quality,  than  in  the 
story  it  told, — a  story,  which  for  some  unaccount 
able  reason — I  did  not  pause  to  determine  what  one 
— I  felt  it  to  be  my  immediate  duty  to  know.  But 
I  asked  no  questions  then ;  I  did  not  even  venture 
a  comment;  and  yielded  her  up  with  seeming 
readiness  when  a  strong  but  none  too  intelligent 
woman  came  running  in  with  arms  outstretched 


200  The  House  of  Clocks 

to  carry  her  off.  When  the  door  had  closed  upon 
these  two,  the  silence  of  my  client  drew  my  atten 
tion  back  to  herself. 

"I  am  waiting,"  was  her  quiet  observation,  and 
without  any  further  reference  to  what  had  just 
taken  place  under  our  eyes,  she  went  on  with  the 
business  previously  occupying  us. 

I  was  able  to  do  my  part  without  any  too  great 
display  of  my  own  disturbance.  The  clearness  of 
my  remarkable  client's  instructions,  the  definite- 
ness  with  which  her  mind  was  made  up  as  to  the 
disposal  of  every  dollar  of  her  vast  property,  made 
it  easy  for  me  to  master  each  detail  and  make  care- 
full  note  of  every  wish.  But  this  did  not  prevent 
the  ebb  and  flow  within  me  of  an  undercurrent  of 
thought  full  of  question  and  uneasiness.  What 
had  been  the  real  purport  of  the  scene  to  which  I 
had  just  been  made  a  surprised  witness?  The  few, 
but  certainly  unusual,  facts  which  had  been  given 
me  in  regard  to  the  extraordinary  relations  existing 
between  these  two  closely  connected  women  will 
explain  the  intensity  of  my  interest.  Those  facts 
shall  be  yours. 

Arabella  Merwin,  when  young,  was  gifted  with  a 
peculiar  fascination  which,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
not  altogether  vanished  with  age.  Consequently 
she  had  many  lovers,  among  them  two  brothers, 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      201 

Frank  and  Andrew  Postlethwaite.  The  latter  was 
the  older,  the  handsomer,  and  the  most  prosper 
ous  (his  name  is  remembered  yet  in  connection 
with  South  American  schemes  of  large  importance), 
but  it  was  Frank  she  married. 

That  real  love,  ardent  if  unreasonable,  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  her  choice,  is  evident  enough  to 
those  who  followed  the  career  of  the  young  couple. 
But  it  was  a  jealous  love  which  brooked  no  rival, 
and  as  Frank  Postlethwaite  was  of  an  impulsive  and 
erratic  nature,  scenes  soon  occurred  between  them 
which,  while  revealing  the  extraordinary  force  of 
the  young  wife's  character,  led  to  no  serious  break 
till  after  her  son  was  born,  and  this,  notwith 
standing  the  fact  that  Frank  had  long  given  up 
making  a  living,  and  that  they  were  openly  de 
pendent  on  their  wealthy  brother,  now  fast  ap 
proaching  the  millionaire  status. 

This  brother — the  Peruvian  King,  as  some  called 
him — must  have  been  an  extraordinary  man. 
Though  cherishing  his  affection  for  the  spirited 
Arabella  to  the  point  of  remaining  a  bachelor  for 
her  sake,  he  betrayed  none  of  the  usual  signs  of 
disappointed  love;  but  on  the  contrary  made 
every  effort  to  advance  her  happiness,  not  only 
by  assuring  to  herself  and  husband  an  adequate 
income,  but  by  doing  all  he  could  in  other  and  less 


202  The  House  of  Clocks 

open  ways  to  lessen  any  sense  she  might  entertain 
of  her  mistake  in  preferring  for  her  lifemate  his 
self-centred  and  unstable  brother.  She  should 
have  adored  him;  but  though  she  evinced  grati 
tude  enough,  there  is  nothing  to  prove  that  she 
ever  gave  Frank  Postlethwaite  the  least  cause  to 
cherish  any  other  sentiment  towards  his  brother 
than  that  of  honest  love  and  unqualified  respect. 
Perhaps  he  never  did  cherish  any  other.  Perhaps 
the  change  which  everyone  saw  in  the  young 
couple  immediately  after  the  birth  of  their  only 
child  was  due  to  another  cause.  Gossip  is  silent 
on  this  point.  All  that  it  insists  upon  is  that  from 
this  time  evidences  of  a  growing  estrangement 
between  them  became  so  obvious  that  even  the 
indulgent  Andrew  could  not  blind  himself  to  it; 
showing  his  sense  of  trouble,  not  by  lessening 
their  income,  for  that  he  doubled,  but  by  spending 
more  time  in  Peru  and  less  in  New  York  where  the 
two  were  living. 

However, — and  here  we  enter  upon  those  details 
which  I  have  ventured  to  characterize  as  uncom 
mon,  he  was  in  this  country  and  in  the  actual 
company  of  his  brother  when  the  accident  oc 
curred  which  terminated  both  their  lives.  It  was 
the  old  story  of  a  skidding  motor,  and  Mrs. 
Postlethwaite,  having  been  sent  for  in  great  haste 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      203 

to  the  small  inn  into  which  the  two  injured  men 
had  been  carried,  arrived  only  in  time  to  witness 
their  last  moments.  Frank  died  first  and  Andrew 
some  few  minutes  later — an  important  fact,  as 
was  afterwards  shown  when  the  latter 's  will 
came  to  be  read. 

This  will  was  a  peculiar  one.  By  its  provisions 
the  bulk  of  the  King's  great  property  was  left  to 
his  brother  Frank,  but  with  this  especial  stipulation 
that  in  case  his  brother  failed  to  survive  him,  the 
full  legacy  as  bequeathed  to  him  should  be 
given  unconditionally  to  his  widow.  Frank's 
demise,  as  I  have  already  stated,  preceded  his 
brother's  by  several  minutes  and  consequently 
Arabella  became  the  chief  legatee;  and  that  is 
how  she  obtained  her  millions.  But — and  here  a 
startling  feature  comes  in — when  the  will  came 
to  be  administered,  the  secret  underlying  the 
break  between  Frank  and  his  wife  was  brought  to 
light  by  a  revelation  of  the  fact  that  he  had  prac 
tised  a  great  deception  upon  her  at  the  time  of  his 
marriage.  Instead  of  being  a  bachelor  as  was 
currently  believed,  he  was  in  reality  a  widower, 
and  the  father  of  a  child.  This  fact,  so  long  held 
secret,  had  become  hers  when  her  own  child  was 
born;  and  constituted  as  she  was,  she  not  only 
never  forgave  the  father,  but  conceived  such  a 


204  The  House  of  Clocks 

hatred  for  the  innocent  object  of  their  quarrel 
that  she  refused  to  admit  its  claims  or  even  to 
acknowledge  its  existence. 

But  later — after  his  death,  in  fact — she  showed 
some  sense  of  obligation  towards  one  who  under 
ordinary  conditions  would  have  shared  her  wealth. 
When  the  whole  story  became  hers,  and  she  dis 
covered  that  this  secret  had  been  kept  from  his 
brother  as  well  as  from  herself,  and  that  conse 
quently  no  provision  had  been  made  in  any  way  for 
the  child  thus  thrown  directly  upon  her  mercy,  she 
did  the  generous  thing  and  took  the  forsaken  girl 
into  her  own  home.  But  she  never  betrayed  the 
least  love  for  her,  her  whole  heart  being  bound  up 
in  her  boy,  who  was,  as  all  agree,  a  prodigy  of 
talent. 

But  this  boy,  for  all  his  promise  and  seeming 
strength  of  constitution,  died  when  barely  seven 
years  old,  and  the  desolate  mother  was  left  with 
nothing  to  fill  her  heart  but  the  uncongenial 
daughter  of  her  husband's  first  wife.  The  fact 
that  this  child,  slighted  as  it  had  hitherto  been, 
would,  in  the  event  of  her  uncle  having  passed 
away  before  her  father,  have  been  the  undisputed 
heiress  of  a  large  portion  of  the  wealth  now  at  the 
disposal  of  her  arrogant  step-mother,  led  many  to 
expect,  now  that  the  boy  was  no  more,  that  Mrs. 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      205 

Postlethwaite  would  proceed  to  acknowledge  the 
little  Helena  as  her  heir,  and  give  her  that  place  in 
the  household  to  which  her  natural  claims  entitled 
her. 

But  no  such  result  followed.  The  passion  of 
grief  into  which  the  mother  was  thrown  by  the 
shipwreck  of  all  her  hopes  left  her  hard  and  implac 
able,  and  when,  as  very  soon  happened,  she  fell  a 
victim  to  the  disease  which  tied  her  to  her  chair 
and  made  the  wealth  which  had  come  to  her  by 
such  a  peculiar  ordering  of  circumstances  little  else 
than  a  mockery  even  in  her  own  eyes,  it  was  upon 
this  child  she  expended  the  full  fund  of  her  secret 
bitterness. 

And  the  child?  What  of  her?  How  did  she 
bear  her  unhappy  fate  when  she  grew  old  enough 
to  realize  it?  With  a  resignation  which  was  the 
wonder  of  all  who  knew  her.  No  murmurs  escaped 
her  lips,  nor  was  the  devotion  she  invariably  dis 
played  to  the  exacting  invalid  who  ruled  her  as 
well  as  all  the  rest  of  her  household  with  a  rod  of 
iron  ever  disturbed  by  the  least  sign  ( of  reproach. 
Though  the  riches,  which  in  those  early  days  poured 
into  the  home  in  a  measure  far  beyond  the  needs  of 
its  mistress,  were  expended  in  making  the  house 
beautiful  rather  than  in  making  the  one  young  life 
within  it  happy,  she  never  was  heard  to  utter  so 


206  The  House  of  Clocks 

much  as  a  wish  to  leave  the  walls  within  which  fate 
had  immured  her.  Content,  or  seemingly  content, 
with  the  only  home  she  knew,  she  never  asked 
for  change  or  demanded  friends  or  amusements. 
Visitors  ceased  coming ;  desolation  followed  neglect. 
The  garden,  once  a  glory,  succumbed  to  a  riot  of 
weeds  and  undesirable  brush,  till  a  towering  wall 
seemed  to  be  drawn  about  the  house  cutting  it  off 
from  the  activities  of  the  world  as  it  cut  it  off  from 
the  approach  of  sunshine  by  day,  and  the  comfort 
of  a  star-lit  heaven  by  night.  And  yet  the  young 
girl  continued  to  smile,  though  with  a  pitifulness 
of  late,  which  some  thought  betokened  secret 
terror  and  others  the  wasting  of  a  body  too  sensi 
tive  for  such  unwholesome  seclusion. 

These  were  the  facts,  known  if  not  consciously 
specialized,  which  gave  to  the  latter  part  of  my 
interview  with  Mrs.  Postlethwaite  a  poignancy 
of  interest  which  had  never  attended  any  of  my 
former  experiences.  The  peculiar  attitude  of  Miss 
Postlethwaite  towards  her  indurate  tormentor 
awakened  in  my  agitated  mind  something  much 
deeper  than  curiosity,  but  when  I  strove  to  speak 
her  name  with  the  intent  of  inquiring  more  par 
ticularly  into  her  condition,  such  a  look  confronted 
me  from  the  steady  eye  immovably  fixed  upon  my 
own,  that  my  courage — or  was  it  my  natural  pre- 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      207 

caution — bade  me  subdue  the  impulse  and  risk  no 
attempt  which  might  betray  the  depth  of  my  inter 
est  in  one  so  completely  outside  the  scope  of  the 
present  moment's  business.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite  appreciated  my  struggle;  perhaps  she  was 
wholly  blind  to  it.  There  was  no  reading  the 
mind  of  this  woman  of  sentimental  name  but  in 
flexible  nature,  and  realizing  the  fact  more  fully 
with  every  word  she  uttered  I  left  her  at  last  with 
no  further  betrayal  of  my  feelings  tjian  might  be 
evinced  by  the  earnestness  with  which  I  promised 
to  return  for  her  signature  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment. 

This  she  had  herself  requested,  saying  as  I  rose: 
"  I  can  still  write  my  name  if  the  paper  is  pushed 
carefully  along  under  my  hand.     See  to  it  that 
you  come  while  the  power  remains  to  me. " 

I  had  hoped  that  in  my  passage  downstairs  I 
might  run  upon  someone  who  would  give  me 
news  of  Miss  Postlethwaite,  but  the  woman  who 
approached  to  conduct  me  downstairs  was  not  of 
an  appearance  to  invite  confidence,  and  I  felt 
forced  to  leave  the  house  with  my  doubts 
unsatisfied. 

Two  memories,  equally  distinct,  followed  me. 
One  was  a  picture  of  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  fingers 


208  The  House  of  Clocks 

groping  among  her  belongings  on  the  little  tray 
perched  upon  her  lap,  and  another  of  the  intent 
and  strangely  bent  figure  of  the  old  man  who  had 
acted  as  my  usher,  listening  to  the  ticking  of  one 
of  the  great  clocks.  So  absorbed  was  he  in  this 
occupation  that  he  not  only  failed  to  notice  me 
when  I  went  by,  but  he  did  not  even  lift  his  head 
at  my  cheery  greeting.  Such  mysteries  were  too 
much  for  me,  and  led  me  to  postpone  my  departure 
from  town  t^ll  I  had  sought  out  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite's  doctor  and  propounded  to  him  one  or  two 
leading  questions.  First,  would  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite's  present  condition  be  likely  to  hold  good 
till  Monday;  and  secondly,  was  the  young  lady 
living  with  her  as  ill  as  her  step-mother  said. 

He  was  a  mild  old  man  of  the  easy-going  type, 
and  the  answers  I  got  from  him  were  far  from 
satisfactory.  Yet  he  showed  some  surprise  when 
I  mentioned  the  extent  of  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's 
anxiety  about  her  step-daughter,  and  paused,  in 
the  dubious  shaking  of  his  head,  to  give  me  a  short 
stare  in  which  I  read  as  much  determination  as 
perplexity. 

"I  will  look  into  Miss  Postleth waite's  case 
more  particularly, "  were  his  parting  words.  And 
with  this  one  gleam  of  comfort  I  had  to  be 
content. 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      209 

Monday's  interview  was  a  brief  one  and  con 
tained  nothing  worth  repeating.  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite  listened  with  stoical  satisfaction  to  the 
reading  of  the  will  I  had  drawn  up,  and  upon  its 
completion  rang  her  bell  for  the  two  witnesses 
awaiting  her  summons,  in  an  adjoining  room.  They 
were  not  of  her  household,  but  to  all  appearance 
honest  villagers  with  but  one  noticeable  character 
istic,  an  overweening  idea  of  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's 
importance.  Perhaps  the  spell  she  had  so  liber 
ally  woven  for  others  in  other  and  happier  days 
was  felt  by  them  at  this  hour.  It  would  not  be 
strange;  I  had  almost  fallen  under  it  myself,  so 
great  was  the  fascination  of  her  manner  even  in 
this  wreck  of  her  bodily  powers,  when  triumph 
assured,  she  faced  us  all  in  a  state  of  complete 
satisfaction. 

But  before  I  was  again  quit  of  the  place,  all  my 
doubts  returned  and  in  fuller  force  than  ever.  I 
had  lingered  in  my  going  as  much  as  decency  would 
permit,  hoping  to  hear  a  step  on  the  stair  or  see 
a  face  in  some  doorway  which  would  contradict 
Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  cold  assurance  that  Miss 
Postlethwaite  was  no  better.  But  no  such  step 
did  I  hear,  and  no  face  did  I  see  save  the  old,  old 
one  of  the  ancient  friend  or  relative,  whose  bent 

frame  seemed  continually  to  haunt  the  halls.     As 
14 


210  The  House  of  Clocks 

before,  he  stood  listening  to  the  monotonous  tick 
ing  of  one  of  the  clocks,  muttering  to  himself  and 
quite  oblivious  of  my  presence. 

However,  this  time  I  decided  not  to  pass  him 
without  amore  persistent  attempt  to  gain  his  notice. 
Pausing  at  his  side,  I  asked  him  in  the  friendly 
tone  I  thought  best  calculated  to  attract  his 
attention,  how  Miss  Postlethwaite  was  to-day. 
He  was  so  intent  upon  his  task,  whatever  that  was, 
that  while  he  turned  my  way,  it  was  with  a  glance 
as  blank  as  that  of  a  stone  image. 

"Listen!"  he  admonished  me.  "It  still  says 
No!  No!  I  don't  think  it  will  ever  say  anything 
else." 

I  stared  at  him  in  some  consternation,  then  at 
the  clock  itself  which  was  the  tall  one  I  had  found 
run  down  at  my  first  visit.  There  was  nothing 
unusual  in  its  quiet  tick,  so  far  as  I  could  hear,  and 
with  a  compassionate  glance  at  the  old  man  who 
had  turned  breathlessly  again  to  listen,  proceeded 
on  my  way  without  another  word. 

The  old  fellow  was  daft.  A  century  old,  and 
daft. 

I  had  worked  my  way  out  through  the  vines 
which  still  encumbered  the  porch,  and  was  taking 
my  first  steps  down  the  walk,  when  some  impulse 
made  me  turn  and  glance  up.  at  one  of  the  windows. 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      211 

Did  I  bless  the  impulse?  I  thought  I  had  every 
reason  for  doing  so,  when  through  a  network  of 
interlacing  branches  I  beheld  the  young  girl  with 
whom  my  mind  was  wholly  occupied,  standing 
with  her  head  thrust  forward,  watching  the  de 
scent  of  something  small  and  white  which  she 
had  just  released  from  her  hand. 

A  note!  A  note  written  by  her  and  meant  for 
me !  With  a  grateful  look  in  her  direction  (which 
was  probably  lost  upon  her  as  she  had  already 
drawn  back  out  of  sight),  I  sprang  for  it  only  to 
meet  with  disappointment.  For  it  was  no  billet- 
doux  I  received  from  amid  the  clustering  brush 
where  it  had  fallen;  but  a  small  square  of  white 
cloth  showing  a  line  of  fantastic  embroidery. 
Annoyed  beyond  measure,  I  was  about  to  fling 
it  down  again,  when  the  thought  that  it  had  come 
from  her  hand  deterred  me,  and  I  thrust  it  into 
my  vest  pocket.  When  I  took  it  out  again — 
which  was  soon  after  I  had  taken  my  seat  in  the 
car — I  discovered  what  a  mistake  I  should  have 
made  if  I  had  followed  my  first  impulse.  For, 
upon  examining  the  stitches  more  carefully,  I 
perceived  that  what  I  had  considered  a  mere 
decorative  pattern  was  in  fact  a  string  of  letters, 
and  that  these  letters  made  words,  and  that  these 
words  were: 


212  The  House  of  Clocks 

I  DO  NOT 
TO  DIE  BUT  1  SU 
RELY  WILL  (F 

Or,  in  plain  writing: 

"I  do  not  want  to  die,  but  I  surely  will  if— — " 

Finish  the  sentence  for  me.  That  is  the  problem 
I  offer  you.  It  is  not  a  case  for  the  police  but  one 
well  worth  your  attention,  if  you  succeed  in  reach 
ing  the  heart  of  this  mystery  and  saving  this  young 
girl. 

Only,  let  no  delay  occur.  The  doom,  if  doom  it 
is,  is  immanent.  Remember  that  the  will  is 
signed. 

II 

"She  is  too  small;  I  did  not  ask  you  to  send  me 
a  midget. " 

Thus  spoke  Mrs.  Postlethwaite  to  her  doctor,  as 
he  introduced  into  her  presence  a  little  figure  in 
nurse's  cap  and  apron.  "You  said  I  needed  care, 
— more  care  than  I  was  receiving.  I  answered 
that  my  old  nurse  could  give  it,  and  you  objected 
that  she  or  someone  else  must  look  after  Miss 
Postlethwaite.  I  did  not  see  the  necessity,  but 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      213 

I  never  contradict  a  doctor.  So  I  yielded  to  your 
wishes,  but  not  without  the  proviso  (you  remember 
that  I  made  a  proviso)  that  whatever  sort  of 
young  woman  you  chose  to  introduce  into  this 
room,  she  should  not  be  fresh  from  the  training 
schools,  and  that  she  should  be  strong,  silent,  and 
capable.  And  you  bring  me  this  mite  of  a  woman 
—is  she  a  woman?  she  looks  more  like  a  child,  of 
pleasing  countenance  enough,  but  who  can  no 
more  lift  me 

"Pardon  me!"  Little  Miss  Strange  had  ad 
vanced.  "I  think,  if  you  will  allow  me  the  privi 
lege,  madam,  that  I  can  shift  you  into  a  much 
more  comfortable  position."  And  with  a  deft 
ness  and  ease  certainly  not  to  be  expected  from 
one  of  her  slight  physique,  Violet  raised  the  help 
less  invalid  a  trifle  more  upon  her  pillow. 

The  act,  its  manner,  and  the  smile  accompany 
ing  it,  could  not  fail  to  please,  and  undoubtedly 
did,  though  no  word  rewarded  her  from  lips  not 
much  given  to  speech  save  when  the  occasion 
was  imperative.  But  Mrs.  Postlethwaite  made  no 
further  objection  to  her  presence,  and,  seeing  this, 
the  doctor's  countenance  relaxed  and  he  left  the 
room  with  a  much  lighter  step  than  that  with 
which  he  had  entered  it. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Violet  Strange — an  adept 


214  The  House  of  Clocks 

in  more  ways  than  one — became  installed  at  the 
bedside  of  this  mysterious  woman,  whose  days, 
if  numbered,  still  held  possibilities  of  action  which 
those  interested  in  young  Helena  Postlethwaite's 
fate  would  do  well  to  recognize. 

Miss  Strange  had  been  at  her  post  for  two  days, 
and  had  gathered  up  the  following: 

That  Mrs.  Postlethwaite  must  be  obeyed. 

That  her  step-daughter  (who  did  not  wish  to 
die)  would  die  if  she  knew  it  to  be  the  wish  of  this 
domineering  but  apparently  idolized  woman. 

That  the  old  man  of  the  clocks,  while  senile  in 
some  regards,  was  very  alert  and  quite  youthful 
in  others.  If  a  century  old — which  she  began 
greatly  to  doubt — he  had  the  language  and  manner 
of  one  in  his  prime,  when  unaffected  by  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  clocks,  which  seemed  in 
some  non-understandable  way  to  exercise  an 
occult  influence  over  him.  At  table  he  was  an 
entertaining  host ;  but  neither  there  nor  elsewhere 
would  he  discuss  the  family,  or  dilate  in  any  way 
upon  the  peculiarities  of  a  household  of  which  he 
manifestly  regarded  himself  as  the  least  important 
member.  Yet  no  one  knew  them  better,  and  when 
Violet  became  quite  assured  of  this,  as  well  as  of 
the  futility  of  looking  for  explanation  of  any  kind 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      215 

from  either  of  her  two  patients,  she  resolved  upon 
an  effort  to  surprise  one  from  him. 

She  went  about  it  in  this  way.  Noting  his 
custom  of  making  a  complete  round  of  the  clocks 
each  night  after  dinner,  she  took  advantage  of 
Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  inclination  to  sleep  at  this 
hour,  to  follow  him  from  clock  to  clock  in  the  hope 
of  overhearing  some  portion  of  the  monologue  with 
which  he  bent  his  head  to  the  swinging  pendulum, 
or  put  his  ear  to  the  hidden  works.  Soft-footed 
and  discreet,  she  tripped  along  at  his  back,  and  at 
each  pause  he  made,  paused  herself  and  turned 
her  ear  his  way.  The  extreme  darkness  of  the 
halls,  which  were  more  sombre  by  night  than  by 
day,  favoured  this  attempt,  and  she  was  able, 
after  a  failure  or  two,  to  catch  the  No!  no!  no! 
no!  which  fell  from  his  lips  in  seeming  repetition 
of  what  he  heard  the  most  of  them  say. 

The  satisfaction  in  his  tone  proved  that  the 
denial  to  which  he  listened,  chimed  in  with  his 
hopes  and  gave  ease  to  his  mind.  But  he  looked 
his  oldest  when,  after  pausing  at  another  of  the 
many  time-pieces,  he  echoed  in  answer  to  its 
special  refrain,  Yes  I  yes!  yes!  yes!  and  fled  the 
spot  with  shaking  body  and  a  distracted  air. 

The  same  fear  and  the  same  shrinking  were  ob 
servable  in  him  as  he  returned  from  listening  to  the 


216  The  House  of  Clocks 

least  conspicuous  one,  standing  in  a  short  corridor, 
where  Violet  could  not  follow  him.  But  when, 
after  a  hesitation  which  enabled  her  to  slip  behind 
the  curtain  hiding  the  drawing-room  door,  he 
approached  and  laid  his  ear  against  the  great  one 
standing,  as  if  on  guard,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
she  saw  by  the  renewed  vigour  he  displayed  that 
there  was  comfort  for  him  in  its  message,  even 
before  she  caught  the  whisper  with  which  he  left 
it  and  proceeded  to  mount  the  stairs: 

"It  says  No!  It  always  says  No!  I  will  heed 
it  as  the  voice  of  Heaven.*' 

But  one  conclusion  could  be  the  result  of  such 
an  experiment  to  a  mind  like  Violet's.  This 
partly  touched  old  man  not  only  held  the  key  to 
the  secret  of  this  house,  but  was  in  a  mood  to 
divulge  it  if  once  he  could  be  induced  to  hear 
command  instead  of  disuasion  in  the  tick  of  this 
one  large  clock.  But  how  could  he  be  induced? 
Violet  returned  to  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  bedside 
in  a  mood  of  extreme  thoughtfulness. 

Another  day  passed,  and  she  had  not  yet  seen 
Miss  Postlethwaite.  She  was  hoping  each  hour 
to  be  sent  on  some  errand  to  that  young  lady's 
room,  but  no  such  opportunity  was  granted  her. 
Once  she  ventured  to  ask  the  doctor,  whose  visits 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      217 

were  now  very  frequent,  what  he  thought  of  the 
young  lady's  condition.  But  as  this  question 
was  necessarily  put  in  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's  pres 
ence,  the  answer  was  naturally  guarded,  and 
possibly  not  altogether  frank. 

"Our  young  lady  is  weaker,"  he  acknowledged. 
"Much  weaker,"  he  added  with  marked  emphasis 
and  his  most  professional  air,  "or  she  would  be 
here  instead  of  in  her  own  room.  It  grieves 
her  not  to  be  able  to  wait  upon  her  generous 
benefactress.1' 

The  word  fell  heavily.  Had  it  been  used  as  a 
test?  Violet  gave  him  a  look,  though  she  had 
much  rather  have  turned  her  discriminating  eye 
upon  the  face  staring  up  at  them  from  the  pillow. 
Had  the  alarm  expressed  by  others  communicated 
itself  at  last  to  the  physician?  Was  the  charm 
which  had  held  him  subservient  to  the  mother, 
dissolving  under  the  pitiable  state  of  the  child, 
and  was  he  trying  to  aid  the  little  detective-nurse 
in  her  effort  to  sound  the  mystery  of  her  condition? 

His  look  expressed  benevolence,  but  he  took  care 
not  to  meet  the  gaze  of  the  woman  he  had  just 
lauded,  possibly  because  that  gaze  was  fixed  upon 
him  in  a  way  to  tax  his  moral  courage.  The 
silence  which  ensued  was  broken  by  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite : 


2i8  The  House  of  Clocks 

"She  will  live — this  poor  Helena — how  long?" 
she  asked,  with  no  break  in  her  voice's  wonted 
music. 

The  doctor  hesitated,  then  with  a  candour  hardly 
to  be  expected  from  him,  answered: 

"I  do  not  understand  Miss  Postlethwaite's 
case.  I  should  like,  with  your  permission,  to 
consult  some  New  York  physician." 

"Indeed!" 

A  single  word,  but  as  it  left  this  woman's  thin 
lips  Violet  recoiled,  and,  perhaps,  the  doctor  did. 
Rage  can  speak  in  one  word  as  well  as  in  a  dozen, 
and  the  rage  which  spoke  in  this  one  was  of  no 
common  order,  though  it  was  quickly  suppressed, 
as  was  all  other  show  of  feeling  when  she  added, 
with  a  touch  of  her  old  charm : 

"Of  course  you  will  do  what  you  think  best,  as 
you  know  I  never  interfere  with  a  doctor's  decisions. 
But"  and  here  her  natural  ascendancy  of  tone  and 
manner  returned  in  all  its  potency,  "it  would  kill 
me  to  know  that  a  stranger  was  approaching 
Helena's  bedside.  It  would  kill  her.  She's  too 
sensitive  to  survive  such  a  shock. 

Violet  recalled  the  words  worked  with  so  much 
care  by  this  young  girl  on  a  minute  piece  of  linen, 
I  do  not  want  to  die,  and  watched  the  doctor's  face 
for  some  sign  of  resolution.  But  embarrassment 


.   Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      219 

was  all  she  saw  there,  and  all  she  heard  him  say 
was  the  conventional  reply: 

"I  am  doing  all  I  can  for  her.  We  will  wait 
another  day  and  note  the  effect  of  my  latest 
prescription." 

Another  day! 

The  deathly  calm  which  overspread  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite's  features  as  this  word  left  the  physician's 
lips  warned  Violet  not  to  let  another  day  go  by 
without  some  action.  But  she  made  no  remark, 
and,  indeed,  betrayed  but  little  interest  in  anything 
beyond  her  own  patient's  condition.  That  seemed 
to  occupy  her  wholly.  With  consummate  art  she 
gave  the  appearance  of  being  under  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite's  complete  thrall,  and  watched  with  fas 
cinated  eyes  every  movement  of  the  one  unstricken 
finger  which  could  do  so  much. 

This  little  detective  of  ours  could  be  an  excel 
lent  actor  when  she  chose. 

ill 

To  make  the  old  man  speak!  To  force  this  con 
science-stricken  but  rebellious  soul  to  reveal  what 
the  clock  forbade!  How  could  it  be  done? 

This  continued  to  be  Violet's  great  problem. 
She  pondered  it  so  deeply  during  all  the  remainder 
of  the  day  that  a  little  pucker  settled  on  her 


220  The  House  of  Clocks 

brow,  which  someone  (I  will  not  mention  who) 
would  have  been  pained  to  see.  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite,  if  she  noticed  it  at  all,  probably  ascribed 
it  to  her  anxieties  as  nurse,  for  never  had  Violet 
been  more  assiduous  in  her  attentions.  But  Mrs. 
Postlethwaite  was  no  longer  the  woman  she  had 
been,  and  possibly  never  noted  it  at  all. 

At  five  o'clock  Violet  suddenly  left  the  room. 
Slipping  down  into  the  lower  hall,  she  went  the 
round  of  the  clocks  herself,  listening  to  every  one. 
There  was  no  perceptible  difference  in  their  tick. 
Satisfied  of  this  and  that  it  was  simply  the  old 
man's  imagination  which  had  supplied  them  each 
with  separate  speech,  she  paused  before  the  huge 
one  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, — the  one  whose 
dictate  he  had  promised  himself  to  follow, — and 
with  an  eye  upon  its  broad,  staring  dial,  muttered 
wistfully : 

"Oh!  for  an  idea!    For  an  idea!" 

Did  this  cumbrous  relic  of  old-time  precision 
turn  traitor  at  this  ingenuous  plea?  The  dial 
continued  to  stare,  the  works  to  sing,  but  Violet's 
face  suddenly  lost  its  perplexity.  With  a  wary 
look  about  her  and  a  listening  ear  turned  towards 
the  stair  top,  she  stretched  out  her  hand  and  pulled 
open  the  door  guarding  the  pendulum,  and  peered 
in  at  the  works,  smiling  slyly  to  herself  as  she 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      221 

pushed  it  back  into  place  and  retreated  upstairs 
to  the  sick  room. 

When  the  doctor  came  that  night  she  had  a 
quiet  word  with  him  outside  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's 
door.  Was  that  why  he  was  on  hand  when  old 
Mr.  Dunbar  stole  from  his  room  to  make  his 
nightly  circuit  of  the  halls  below?  Something  quite 
beyond  the  ordinary  was  in  the  good  physician's 
mind,  for  the  look  he  cast  at  the  old  man  was  quite 
unlike  any  he  had  ever  bestowed  upon  him  before, 
and  when  he  spoke  it  was  to  say  with  marked 
urgency : 

"Our  beautiful  young  lady  will  not  live  a  week 
unless  I  get  at  the  seat  of  her  malady.  Pray  that 
I  may  be  enabled  to  do  so,  Mr.  Dunbar." 

A  blow  to  the  aged  man's  heart  which  called 
forth  a  feeble  "Yes,  yes,"  followed  by  a  wild 
stare  which  imprinted  itself  upon  the  doctor's 
memory  as  the  look  of  one  hopelessly  old,  who 
hears  for  the  first  time  a  distinct  call  from  the 
grave  which  has  long  been  awaiting  him ! 

A  solitary  lamp  stood  in  the  lower  hall.  As  the 
old  man  picked  his  slow  way  down,  its  small, 
hesitating  flame  flared  up  as  in  a  sudden  gust, 
then  sank  down  flickering  and  faint  as  if  it,  too,  had 
heard  a  call  which  summoned  it  to  extinction. 


222  The  House  of  Clocks 

No  other  sign  of  life  was  visible  anywhere.  Sunk 
in  twilight  shadows,  the  corridors  branched  away 
on  either  side  to  no  place  in  particular  and  serving, 
to  all  appearance  (as  many  must  have  thought  in 
days  gone  by) ,  as  a  mere  hiding-place  for  clocks. 

To  listen  to  their  united  hum,  the  old  man 
paused,  looking  at  first  a  little  distraught,  but 
settling  at  last  into  his  usual  self  as  he  started 
forward  upon  his  course.  Did  some  whisper, 
hitherto  unheard,  warn  him  that  it  was  the  last 
time  he  would  tread  that  weary  round?  Who  can 
tell?  He  was  trembling  very  much  when  with 
his  task  nearly  completed,  he  stepped  out  again 
into  the  main  hall  and  crept  rather  than  walked 
back  to  the  one  great  clock  to  whose  dictum  he 
made  it  a  practice  to  listen  last. 

Chattering  the  accustomed  words,  "They  say 
Yes!  They  are  all  saying  Yes!  now;  but  this  one 
will  say  No!"  he  bent  his  stiff  old  back  and  laid 
his  ear  to  the  unresponsive  wood.  But  the  time  for 
no  had  passed.  It  was  Yes!  yes!  yes!  yes!  now, 
and  as  his  straining  ears  took  in  the  word,  he 
appeared  to  shrink  where  he  stood  and  after  a 
moment  of  anguished  silence,  broke  forth  into  a 
low  wail,  amid  whose  lamentations  one  could  hear: 

"The  time  has  come!  Even  the  clock  she  loves 
best  bids  me  speak.  Oh!  Arabella,  Arabella!" 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      223 

In  his  despair  he  had  not  noticed  that  the  pendu 
lum  hung  motionless,  or  that  the  hands  stood  at 
rest  on  the  dial.  If  he  had,  he  might  have  waited 
long  enough  to  have  seen  the  careful  opening  of 
the  great  clock's  tall  door  and  the  stepping  forth 
of  the  little  lady  who  had  played  so  deftly  upon  his 
superstition. 

He  was  wandering  the  corridors  like  a  helpless 
child,  when  a  gentle  hand  fell  on  his  arm  and  a 
soft  voice  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"You  have  a  story  to  tell.  Will  you  tell  it  to 
me?  It  may  save  Miss  Postlethwaite's  life.  " 

Did  he  understand?  Would  he  respond  if  he 
did;  or  would  the  shock  of  her  appeal  restore  him 
to  a  sense  of  the  danger  attending  disloyalty? 
For  a  moment  she  doubted  the  wisdom  of  this 
startling  measure,  then  she  saw  that  he  had 
passed  the  point  of  surprise  and  that,  stranger  as 
she  was,  she  had  but  to  lead  the  way  for  him  to 
follow,  tell  his  story,  and  die. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  drawing-room  when 
they  entered.  But  old  Mr.  Dunbar  did  not  seem 
to  mind  that.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  have  lost  all 
consciousness  of  present  surroundings;  he  was 
even  oblivious  of  her.  This  became  quite  evident 
when  the  lamp,  in  flaring  up  again  in  the  hall,  gave 


224  The  House  of  Clocks 

a  momentary  glimpse  of  his  crouching,  half -kneel 
ing  figure.  In  the  pleading  gesture  of  his  tremb 
ling,  outreaching  arms,  Violet  beheld  an  appeal,  not 
to  herself,  but  to  some  phantom  of  his  imagination ; 
and  when  he  spoke,  as  he  presently  did,  it  was  with 
the  freedom  of  one  to  whom  speech  is  life's  last 
boon,  and  the  ear  of  the  listener  quite  forgotten 
in  the  passion  of  confession  long  suppressed. 

''She  has  never  loved  me,"  he  began,  "but  I 
have  always  loved  her.  For  me  no  other  woman 
has  ever  existed,  though  I  was  sixty-five  years  of 
age  when  I  first  saw  her,  and  had  long  given  up  the 
idea  that  there  lived  a  woman  who  could  sway 
me  from  my  even  life  and  fixed  lines  of  duty. 
Sixty-five!  and  she  a  youthful  bride!  Was  there 
ever  such  folly!  Happily  I  realized  it  from  the 
first,  and  piled  ashes  on  my  hidden  flame.  Per 
haps  that  is  why  I  adore  her  to  this  day  and  only 
give  her  over  to  reprobation  because  Fate  is 
stronger  than  my  age — stronger  even  than  my 
love. 

"  She  is  not  a  good  woman,  but  I  might  have  been 
a  good  man  if  I  had  never  known  the  sin  which 
drew  a  line  of  isolation  about  her,  and  within  which 
I,  and  only  I,  have  stood  with  her  in  silent  com 
panionship.  What  was  this  sin,  and  in  what  did 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      225 

it  have  its  beginning?  I  think  its  beginning  was  in 
the  passion  she  had  for  her  husband.  It  was  not 
the  every-day  passion  of  her  sex  in  this  land  of 
equable  affections,  but  one  of  foreign  fierceness, 
jealousy,  and  insatiable  demand.  Yet  he  was  a 
very  ordinary  man.  I  was  once  his  tutor  and  I 
know.  She  came  to  know  it  too,  when — but  I  am 
rushing  on  too  fast,  I  have  much  to  tell  before  I 
reach  that  point. 

' 'From  the  first,  I  was  in  their  confidence.  Not 
that  either  he  or  she  put  me  there,  but  that  I 
lived  with  them  and  was  always  around,  and  could 
not  help  seeing  and  hearing  what  went  on  between 
them.  Why  he  continued  to  want  me  in  the 
house  and  at  his  table,  when  I  could  no  longer  be 
of  service  to  him,  I  have  never  known.  Possibly 
habit  explains  all.  He  was  accustomed  to  my 
presence  and  so  was  she ;  so  accustomed  they  hardly 
noticed  it,  as  happened  one  night,  when  after  a 
little  attempt  at  conversation,  he  threw  down  the 
book  he  had  caught  up  and,  addressing  her  by 
name,  said  without  a  glance  my  way,  and  quite  as 
if  he  were  alone  with  her: 

"  'Arabella,  there  is  something  I  ought  to  tell  you. 

I  have  tried  to  find  the  courage  to  do  so  many  times 

before  now  but  have  always  failed.     To-night  I 

must/     And  then  he  made  his  great  disclosure, — 

is 


226  The  House  of  Clocks 

how,  unknown  to  his  friends  and  the  world,  he 
was  a  widower  when  he  married  her,  and  the  father 
of  a  living  child. 

''With  some  women  this  might  have  passed  with  a 
measure  of  regret,  and  some  possible  contempt  for 
his  silence,  but  not  so  with  her.  She  rose  to  her  feet 
— I  can  see  her  yet — and  for  a  moment  stood  facing 
him  in  the  still,  overpowering  manner  of  one  who 
feels  the  icy  pang  of  hate  enter  where  love  has 
been.  Never  was  moment  more  charged.  I  could 
not  breathe  while  it  lasted;  and  when  at  last  she 
spoke,  it  was  with  an  impetuosity  of  concentrated 
passion,  hardly  less  dreadful  than  her  silence  had 
been. 

'"You  a  father!  A  father  already!'  she  cried, 
all  her  sweetness  swallowed  up  in  ungovernable 
wrath.  'You  whom  I  expected  to  make  so  happy 
with  a  child?  I  curse  you  and  your  brat.  I 

"He  strove  to  placate  her,  to  explain.  But  rage 
has  no  ears,  and  before  I  realized  my  own  position, 
the  scene  became  openly  tempestuous.  That  her 
child  should  be  second  to  another  woman's  seemed 
to  awaken  demon  instincts  within  her.  When  he 
ventured  to  hint  that  his  little  girl  needed  a 
mother's  care,  her  irony  bit  like  corroding  acid. 
He  became  speechless  before  it  and  had  not  a 
protest  to  raise  when  she  declared  that  the  secret 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      227 

he  had  kept  so  long  and  so  successfully  he 
must  continue  to  keep  to  his  dying  day.  That 
the  child  he  had  failed  to  own  in  his  first  wife's 
lifetime  should  remain  disowned  in  hers,  and  if 
possible  be  forgotten.  She  should  never  give  the 
girl  a  thought  nor  acknowledge  her  in  any  way. 

"She  was  Fury  embodied;  but  the  fury  was  of 
that  grand  order  which  allures  rather  than  repels. 
As  I  felt  myself  succumbing  to  its  fascination  and 
beheld  how  he  was  weakening  under  it  even  more 
perceptibly  than  myself,  I  started  from  my  chair, 
and  sought  to  glide  away  before  I  should  hear  him 
utter  a  fatal  acquiescence. 

"But  the  movement  I  made  unfortunately  drew 
their  attention  to  me,  and  after  an  instant  of 
silent  contemplation  of  my  distracted  countenance, 
Frank  said,  as  though  he  were  the  elder  by  the 
forty  years  which  separated  us: 

"'You  have  listened  to  Mrs.  Postlethwaite's 
wishes.  You  will  respect  them  of  course.' 

"That  was  all.  He  knew  and  she  knew  that  I 
was  to  be  trusted;  but  neither  of  them  has  ever 
known  why. 

"A  month  later  her  child  came,  and  was  wel 
comed  as  though  it  were  the  first  to  bear  his  name. 
It  was  a  boy,  and  their  satisfaction  was  so  great 
that  I  looked  to  see  their  old  affection  revive.  But 


228  The  House  of  Clocks 

it  had  been  cleft  at  the  root,  and  nothing  could 
restore  it  to  life.  They  loved  the  child;  I  have 
never  seen  evidence  of  greater  parental  passion 
than  they  both  displayed,  but  there  their  feelings 
stopped.  Towards  each  other  they  were  cold. 
They  did  not  even  unite  in  worship  of  their  treas 
ure.  They  gloated  over  him  and  planned  for  him, 
but  always  apart.  He  was  a  child  in  a  thousand, 
and  as  he  developed,  the  mother  especially,  nursed 
all  her  energies  for  the  purpose  of  ensuring  for  him 
a  future  commensurate  with  his  talents.  Never  a 
very  conscientious  woman,  and  alive  to  the  advan 
tages  of  wealth  as  demonstrated  by  the  power 
wielded  by  her  rich  brother-in-law,  she  associated 
all  the  boy's  prospects  with  money,  great  money, 
such  money  as  Andrew  had  accumulated,  and  now 
had  at  his  disposal  for  his  natural  heirs. 

"  Hence  cams  her  great  temptation, — a  tempta 
tion  to  which  she  yielded,  to  the  lasting  trouble  of 
us  all.  Of  this  I  must  now  make  confession  though 
it  kills  me  to  do  so,  and  will  soon  kill  her.  The 
deeds  of  the  past  do  not  remain  buried,  however 
deep  we  dig  their  graves,  but  rise  in  an  awful  resur 
rection  when  we  are  old — old " 

Silence.  Then  a  tremulous  renewal  of  his 
painful  speech. 

Violet  held  her  breath  to  listen.     Possibly  the 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      229 

doctor,  hidden  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room, 
did  so  also. 

11 1  never  knew  how  she  became  acquainted  with 
the  terms  of  her  brother-in-law's  will.  He  cer 
tainly  never  confided  them  to  her,  and  as  certainly 
the  lawyer  who  drew  up  the  document  never  did. 
But  that  she  was  well  aware  of  its  tenor  is  as  posi 
tive  a  fact  as  that  I  am  the  most  wretched  man 
alive  to-night.  Otherwise,  why  the  darksome  deed 
into  which  she  was  betrayed  when  both  the 
brothers  lay  dying  among  strangers,  of  a  dreadful 
accident? 

1 '  I  was  witness  to  that  deed.  I  had  accompanied 
her  on  her  hurried  ride  and  was  at  her  side  when 
she  entered  the  inn  where  the  two  Postlethwaites 
lay.  I  was  always  at  her  side  in  great  joy  or  in 
great  trouble,  though  she  professed  no  affection 
for  me  and  gave  me  but  scanty  thanks. 

"  During  our  ride  she  had  been  silent  and  I  had 
not  disturbed  that  silence.  I  had  much  to  think  of. 
Should  we  find  him  living,  or  should  we  find  him 
dead?  If  dead,  would  it  sever  the  relations  be 
tween  us  two?  Would  I  ever  ride  with  her  again? 

"  When  I  was  not  dwelling  on  this  theme,  I  was 
thinking  of  the  parting  look  she  gave  her  boy;  a 
look  which  had  some  strange  promise  in  it.  What 
had  that  look  meant  and  why  did  my  flesh  creep 


230  The  House  of  Clocks 

and  my  mind  hover  between  dread  and  a  fear 
some  curiosity  when  I  recalled  it?  Alas!  There  was 
reason  for  all  these  sensations  as  I  was  soon  to  learn. 

"We  found  the  inn  seething  with  terror  and 
the  facts  worse  than  had  been  represented  in  the 
telegram.  Her  husband  was  dying.  She  had 
come  just  in  time  to  witness  the  end.  This 
they  told  her  before  she  had  taken  off  her  veil. 
If  they  had  waited — if  I  had  been  given  a  full 
glimpse  of  her  face — But  it  was  hidden,  and  I 
could  only  judge  of  the  nature  of  her  emotions  by 
the  stern  way  in  which  she  held  herself. 

"  'Take  me  to  him,'  was  the  quiet  command 
with  which  she  met  this  disclosure.  Then,  before 
any  of  them  could  move : 

"  'And  his  brother,  Mr.  Andrew  Postlethwaite? 
Is  he  fatally  injured  too?' 

"The  reply  was  unequivocal.  The  doctors  were 
uncertain  which  of  the  two  would  pass  away  first. 

"You  must  remember  that  at  this  time  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  rich  man's  will,  and  consequently 
of  how  the  fate  of  a  poor  child  of  whom  I  had 
heard  only  one  mention,  hung  in  the  balance  at 
that  awful  moment.  But  in  the  breathlessness 
which  seized  Mrs.  Postlethwaite  at  this  sentence 
of  double  death,  I  realized  from  my  knowledge  of 
her  that  something  more  than  grief  was  at  prey 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      231 

upon  her  impenetrable  heart,  and  shuddered  to  the 
core  of  my  being  when  she  repeated  in  that  voice 
which  was  so  terrible  because  so  expressionless: 

'"Take  me  to  them/ 

"They  were  lying  in  one  room,  her  husband  near 
est  the  door,  the  other  in  a  small  alcove  some  ten 
feet  way.  Both  were  unconscious;  both  were 
surrounded  by  groups  of  frightened  attendants  who 
fell  back  as  she  approached.  A  doctor  stood  at  the 
bed-head  of  her  husband,  but  as  her  eye  met  his 
he  stepped  aside  with  a  shake  of  the  head  and  left 
the  place  empty  for  her. 

"The  action  was  significant.  I  saw  that  she 
understood  what  it  meant,  and  with  constricted 
heart  watched  her  as  she  bent  over  the  dying  man 
and  gazed  into  his  wide-open  eyes,  already  sight 
less  and  staring.  Calculation  was  in  her  look  and 
calculation  only;  and  calculation,  or  something 
equally  unintelligible,  sent  her  next  glance  in  the 
direction  of  liis  brother.  What  was  in  her  mind? 
I  could  understand  her  indifference  to  Frank  even 
at  the  crisis  of  his  fate,  but  not  the  interest  she 
showed  in  Andrew.  It  was  an  absorbing  one, 
altering  her  whole  expression.  I  no  longer  knew 
her  for  my  dear  young  madam,  and  the  jealousy 
I  had  never  felt  towards  Frank  rose  to  frantic 
resentment  in  my  breast  as  I  beheld  what  very 


232  The  House  of  Clocks 

likely  might  be  a  tardy  recognition  of  the  other's 
well-known  passion,  forced  into  disclosure  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  moment. 

"Alarmed  by  the  strength  of  my  feelings,  and 
fearing  an  equal  disclosure  on  my  own  part,  I 
sought  for  a  refuge  from  all  eyes  and  found  it  in  a 
little  balcony  opening  out  at  my  right.  On  to  this 
balcony  I  stepped  and  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  a  star-lit  heaven.  Had  I  only  been  content 
with  my  isolation  and  the  splendour  of  the  spec 
tacle  spread  out  before  me!  But  no,  I  must  look 
back  upon  that  bed  and  the  solitary  woman  stand 
ing  beside  it!  I  must  watch  the  settling  of  her 
body  into  rigidity  as  a  voice  rose  from  beside  the 
other  Postlethwaite  saying,  'It  is  a  matter  of 
minutes  now,'  and  then — and  then — the  slow 
creeping  of  her  hand  to  her  husband's  mouth,  the 
outspreading  of  her  palm  across  the  livid  lips — its 
steady  clinging  there,  smothering  the  feeble 
gasps  of  one  already  moribund,  till  the  quivering 
form  grew  still,  and  Frank  Postlethwaite  lay  dead 
before  my  eyes! 

"I  saw,  and  made  no  outcry,  but  she  did,  bring 
ing  the  doctor  back  to  her  side  with  the  startled 
exclamation : 

'"Dead?  I  thought  he  had  an  hour's  life  left 
in  him,  and  he  has  passed  before  his  brother.' 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      233 

"I  thought  it  hate — the  murderous  impulse  of  a 
woman  who  sees  her  enemy  at  her  mercy  and  can 
no  longer  restrain  the  passion  of  her  long-cherished 
antagonism;  and  while  something  within  me  re 
belled  at  the  act,  I  could  not  betray  her,  though 
silence  made  a  murderer  of  me  too.  I  could  not. 
Her  spell  was  upon  me  as  in  another  instant  it  was 
upon  everyone  else  in  the  room.  No  suspicion  of 
one  so  self-repressed  in  her  sadness  disturbed  the 
universal  sympathy;  and  encouraged  by  this 
blindness  of  the  crowd,  I  vowed  within  myself 
never  to  reveal  her  secret.  The  man  was  dead,  or 
as  good  as  dead,  when  she  touched  him;  and  now 
that  her  hate  was  expended  she  would  grow  gentle 
and  good. 

"But  I  knew  the  worthlessness  of  this  hope  as 
well  as  my  misconception  of  her  motive,  when 
Frank's  child  by  another  wife  returned  to  my 
memory,  and  Bella's  sin  stood  exposed. 

"But  only  to  myself.  I  alone  knew  that  the 
fortune  now  wholly  hers,  and  in  consequence  her 
boy's,  had  been  won  by  a  crime.  That  if  her 
hand  had  fallen  in  comfort  on  her  husband's  fore 
head  instead  of  in  pressure  on  his  mouth,  he  would 
have  outlived  his  brother  long  enough  to  have 
become  owner  of  his  millions;  in  which  case  a 
rightful  portion  would  have  been  insured  to  his 


234  The  House  of  Clocks 

daughter,  now  left  a  penniless  waif.  The  thought 
made  my  hair  rise,  as  the  proceedings  over,  I 
faced  her  and  made  my  first  and  last  effort  to  rid 
my  conscience  of  its  new  and  intolerable  burden. 

"  But  the  woman  I  had  known  and  loved  was  no 
longer  before  me.  The  crown  had  touched  her 
brows,  and  her  charm  which  had  been  mainly  sex 
ual  up  to  this  hour  had  merged  into  an  intellectual 
force,  with  which  few  men's  mentality  could  cope. 
Mine  yielded  at  once  to  it.  From  the  first  instant, 
I  knew  that  a  slavery  of  spirit,  as  well  as  of  heart, 
was  henceforth  to  be  mine. 

"  She  did  not  wait  for  me  to  speak;  she  had  as 
sumed  the  dictator's  attitude  at  once. 

"  'I  know  of  what  you  are  thinking,'"  said  she, 
"  '  and  it  is  a  subject  you  may  dismiss  at  once  from 
your  mind.  Mr.  Postlethwaite's  child  by  his  first 
wife  is  coming  to  live  with  us.  I  have  expressed 
my  wishes  in  this  regard  to  my  lawyer,  and  there 
is  nothing  left  to  be  said.  You,  with  your  close 
mouth  and  dependable  nature,  are  to  remain  here 
as  before,  and  occupy  the  same  position  towards 
my  boy  that  you  did  towards  his  father.  We  shall 
move  soon  into  a  larger  house,  and  the  nature  of 
our  duties  will  be  changed  and  their  scope  greatly 
increased ;  but  I  know  that  you  can  be  trusted  to 
enlarge  with  them  and  meet  every  requirement  I 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      235 

shall  see  fit  to  make.  Do  not  try  to  express  your 
thanks.  I  see  them  in  your  face.' 

"  Did  she,  or  just  the  last  feeble  struggle  my  con 
science  was  making  to  break  the  bonds  in  which  she 
held  me,  and  win  back  my  own  respect?  I  shall 
never  know,  for  she  left  me  on  completion  of  this 
speech,  not  to  resume  the  subject,  then  or  ever. 

"But  though  I  succumbed  outwardly  to  her 
demands,  I  had  not  passed  the  point  where  inner 
conflict  ends  and  peace  begins.  Her  recognition 
of  Helena  and  her  reception  into  the  family  calmed 
me  for  a  while,  and  gave  me  hope  that  all  would  yet 
be  well.  But  I  had  never  sounded  the  full  bitter 
ness  of  madam's  morbid  heart,  well  as  I  thought  I 
knew  it.  The  hatred  she  had  felt  from  the  first 
for  her  husband's  child  ripened  into  frenzied  dis 
like  when  she  found  her  a  living  image  of  the 
mother  whose  picture  she  had  come  across  among 
Frank's  personal  effects.  To  win  a  tear  from  those 
meek  eyes  instead  of  a  smile  to  the  sensitive  lips 
was  her  daily  play.  She  seemed  to  exult  in  the 
joy  of  impressing  upon  the  girl  by  how  little  she 
had  missed  a  great  fortune,  and  I  have  often 
thought,  much  as  I  tried  to  keep  my  mind  free 
from  all  extravagant  and  unnecessary  fancies, 
that  half  of  the  money  she  spent  in  beautifying 
this  house  and  maintaining  art  industries  and  even 


236  The  House  of  Clocks 

great  charitable  institutions  was  spent  with  the 
base  purpose  of  demonstrating  to  this  child  the 
power  of  immense  wealth,  and  in  what  ways  she 
might  expect  to  see  her  little  brother  expend  the 
millions  in  which  she  had  been  denied  all  share. 

"  I  was  so  sure  of  this  that  one  night  while  I  was 
winding  up  the  clocks  with  which  Mrs.  Postle- 
thwaite  in  her  fondness  for  old  timepieces  has  filled 
the  house,  I  stopped  to  look  at  the  little  figure 
toiling  so  wearily  upstairs  to  bed,  without  a 
mother's  kiss.  There  was  an  appeal  in  the  small 
wistful  face  which  smote  my  hard  old  heart,  and 
possibly  a  tear  welled  up  in  my  own  eye  when  I 
turned  back  to  my  duty. 

"Was  that  why  I  felt  the  hand  of  Providence 
upon  me,  when  in  my  halt  before  the  one  clock  to 
which  any  superstitious  interest  was  attached — the 
great  one  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — I  saw  that  it  had 
stopped  and  at  the  one  minute  of  all  minutes  in  our 
wretched  lives:  Four  minutes  past  two?  The  hour, 
the  minute  in  which  Frank  Postlethwaite  had 
gasped  his  last  under  the  pressure  of  his  wife's  hand ! 
I  knew  it — the  exact  minute  I  mean — because 
Providence  meant  that  I  should  know  it.  There 
had  been  a  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  of  the  hotel 
room  where  he  and  his  brother  had  died  and  I  had 
seen  her  glance  steal  towards  it  at  the  instant  she 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      237 

withdrew  her  palm  from  her  husband's  lips.  The 
stare  of  that  dial  and  the  position  of  its  hands 
had  lived  still  in  my  mind  as  I  believed  it  did  in 
hers. 

"Four  minutes  past  two!  How  came  our  old 
timepiece  here  to  stop  at  that  exact  moment  on  a 
day  when  Duty  was  making  its  last  demand  upon 
me  to  remember  Frank's  unhappy  child?  There 
was  no  one  to  answer;  but  as  I  looked  and  looked, 
I  felt  the  impulse  of  the  moment  strengthen  into 
purpose  to  leave  those  hands  undisturbed  in  their 
silent  accusation.  She  might  see,  and,  moved  by 
the  coincidence,  tremble  at  her  treatment  of 
Helena. 

"  But  if  this  happened — if  she  saw  and  trembled 
— she  gave  no  sign.  The  works  were  started  up 
by  some  other  hand,  and  the  incident  passed.  But 
it  left  me  with  an  idea.  That  clock  soon  had  a  way 
of  stopping  and  always  at  that  one  instant  of  time. 
She  was  forced  at  length  to  notice  it,  and  I  remem 
ber  an  occasion  when  she  stood  stock-still  with  her 
eyes  on  those  hands,  and  failed  to  find  the  banister 
with  her  hand,  though  she  groped  for  it  in  her 
frantic  need  for  support. 

' '  But  no  command  came  from  her  to  remove 
the  worn-out  piece,  and  soon  its  tricks,  and  every 
lesser  thing,  were  forgotten  in  the  crushing  calam- 


238  The  House  of  Clocks 

ity  which  bef  el  us  in  the  sickness  and  death  of  little 
Richard. 

11  Oh,  those  days  and  nights!  And  oh,  the  face 
of  the  mother  when  the  doctors  told  her  that  the 
case  was  hopeless!  I  asked  myself  then,  and  I 
have  asked  myself  a  hundred  times  since,  which  of 
all  the  emotions  I  saw  pictured  there  bit  the  deep 
est,  and  made  the  most  lasting  impression  on  her 
guilty  heart?  Was  it  remorse?  If  so,  she  showed 
no  change  in  her  attitude  towards  Helena,  unless 
it  was  by  an  added  bitterness.  The  sweet  looks 
and  gentle  ways  of  Frank's  young  daughter  could 
not  win  against  a  hate  sharpened  by  disappoint 
ment.  Useless  for  me  to  hope  for  it.  Release 
from  the  remorse  of  years  was  not  to  come  in  that 
way.  As  I  realized  this,  I  grew  desperate  and 
resorted  again  to  the  old  trick  of  stopping  the 
clock  at  the  fatal  hour.  This  time  her  guilty  heart 
responded.  She  acknowledged  the  stab  and  let 
all  her  miseries  appear.  But  how?  In  a  way  to 
wring  my  heart  almost  to  madness,  and  not  benefit 
the  child  at  all.  She  had  her  first  stroke  that 
night.  I  had  made  her  a  helpless  invalid. 

"That  was  eight  years  ago,  and  since  then  what? 
Stagnation.  She  lived  with  her  memories,  and  I 
with  mine.  Helena  only  had  a  right  to  hope,  and 
hope  perhaps  she  did,  till —  Is  that  the  great  clock 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      239 

talking?  Listen!  They  all  talk,  but  I  heed  only 
the  one.  What  does  it  say?  Tell!  tell!  tell! 
Does  it  think  I  will  be  silent  now  when  I  come  to 
my  own  guilt?  That  I  will  seek  to  hide  my  weak 
ness  when  I  could  not  hide  her  sin?" 

" Explain!"  It  was  Violet  speaking,  and  her 
tone  was  stern  in  its  command.  "Of  what  guilt 
do  you  speak?  Not  of  guilt  towards  Helena;  you 
pitied  her  too  much— 

"But  I  pitied  my  dear  madam  more.  It  was 
that  which  affected  me  and  drew  me  into  crime 
against  my  will.  Besides,  I  did  not  know — not 
at  first — what  was  in  the  little  bowl  of  curds  and 
cream  I  carried  to  the  girl  each  day.  She  had 
eaten  them  in  her  step-mother's  room,  and  under 
her  step-mother's  eye  as  long  as  she  had  strength 
to  pass  from  room  to  room,  and  how  was  I  to  guess 
that  it  was  not  wholesome?  Because  she  failed  in 
health  from  day  to  day  ?  Was  not  my  dear  madam 
failing  in  health  also ;  and  was  there  poison  in  her 
cup?  Innocent  at  that  time,  why  am  I  not  innocent 
now?  Because —  Oh,  I  will  tell  it  all ;  as  though  at 
the  bar  of  God.  I  will  tell  all  the  secrets  of  that  day. 

"  She  was  sitting  with  her  hand  trembling  on  the 
tray  from  which  I  had  just  lifted  the  bowl  she  had 
bid  me  carry  to  Helena.  I  had  seen  her  so  a 


240  The  House  of  Clocks 

hundred  times  before,  but  not  with  just  that  look 
in  her  eyes,  or  just  that  air  of  desolation  in  her 
stony  figure.  Something  made  me  speak;  some 
thing  made  me  ask  if  she  were  not  quite  so  well  as 
usual,  and  something  made  her  reply  with  the 
dreadful  truth  that  the  doctor  had  given  her  just 
two  months  more  to  live.  My  fright  and  mad 
anguish  stupefied  me;  for  I  was  not  prepared  for 
this,  no,  not  at  all; — and  unconsciously  I  stared 
down  at  the  bowl  I  held,  unable  to  breathe  or 
move  or  even  to  meet  her  look. 

"As  usual  she  misinterpreted  my  emotion. 

"'Why  do  you  stand  like  that?'  I  heard  her 
say  in  a  tone  of  great  irritation.  '  And  why  do  you 
stare  into  that  bowl?  Do  you  think  I  mean  to 
leave  that  child  to  walk  these  halls  after  I  am 
carried  out  of  them  forever?  Do  you  measure 
my  hate  by  such  a  petty  yard-stick  as  that?  I 
tell  you  that  I  would  rot  above  ground  rather 
than  enter  it  before  she  did?* 

"  I  had  believed  I  knew  this  woman ;  but  what  soul 
ever  knows  another's  ?  What  soul  ever  knows  itself  ? 

"'Bella!'  I  cried;  the  first  time  I  had  ever  pre 
sumed  to  address  her  so  intimately.  'Would  you 
poison  the  girl?'  And  from  sheer  weakness  my 
fingers  lost  their  clutch,  and  the  bowl  fell  to  the 
floor,  breaking  into  a  dozen  pieces. 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      241 

"  For  a  minute  she  stared  down  at  these  from 
over  her  tray,  and  then  she  remarked  very  low  and 
very  quietly: 

"Another  bowl,  Humphrey,  and  fresh  curds 
from  the  kitchen.  I  will  do  the  seasoning.  The 
doses  are  too  small  to  be  skipped.  You  won't?' — 
I  had  shaken  my  head — 'But  you  will!  It  will 
not  be  the  first  time  you  have  gone  down  the  hall 
with  this  mixture. ' 

"'But  that  was  before  I  knew — '  I  began. 

"And  now  that  you  do,  you  will  go  just  the 
same.'  Then  as  I  stood  hesitating,  a  thousand 
memories  overwhelming  me  in  an  instant,  she 
added  in  a  voice  to  tear  the  heart,  '  Do  not  make 
me  hate  the  only  being  left  in  this  world  who 
understands  and  loves  me. ' 

"  She  was  a  helpless  invalid,  and  I  a  broken  man, 
but  when  that  word  'love'  fell  from  her  lips,  I  felt 
the  blood  start  burning  in  my  veins,  and  all  the 
crust  of  habit  and  years  of  self-control  loosen  about 
my  heart,  and  make  me  young  again.  What  if  her 
thoughts  were  dark  and  her  wishes  murderous! 
She  was  born  to  rule  and  sway  men  to  her  will  even 
to  their  own  undoing. 

"I  wish  I  might  kiss  your  hand,'  was  what  I 
murmured,  gazing  at  her  white  fingers  groping 
over  her  tray. 

16 


242  The  House  of  Clocks 

"'You  may,'  she  answered,  and  hell  became 
heaven  to  me  for  a  brief  instant.  Then  I  lifted 
myself  and  went  obediently  about  my  task. 

"But  puppet  though  I  was,  I  was  not  utterly 
without  sympathy.  When  I  entered  Helena's 
room  and  saw  how  her  startled  eyes  fell  shrinkingly 
on  the  bowl  I  set  down  before  her,  my  conscience 
leaped  to  life  and  I  could  not  help  saying : 

"'Don't  you  like  the  curds,  Helena?  Your 
brother  used  to  love  them  very  much. ' 

"'His  were ' 

'"What,  Helena?' 
"What  these  are  not,'  she  murmured. 

"I  stared  at  her,  terror-stricken.  So  she  knew, 
and  yet  did  not  seize  the  bowl  and  empty  it  out  of 
the  window!  Instead,  her  hand  moved  slowly 
towards  it  and  drew  it  into  place  before  her. 

'"Yet  I  must  eat,'  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  to 
mine  in  a  sort  of  patient  despair,  which  yet  was 
without  accusation. 

"But  my  hand  had  instinctively  gone  to  hers 
and  grasped  it. 

'"Why  must  you  eat  it?'  I  asked.  'If— if  you 
do  not  find  it  wholesome,  why  do  you  touch  it?' 

"Because  my  step-mother  expects  me  to,'  she 
cried,  '  and  I  have  no  other  will  than  hers.  When 
I  was  a  little,  little  child,  my  father  made  me 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      243 


promise  that  if  I  ever  came  to  live  with  her  I 
would  obey  her  simplest  wish.  And  I  always  have. 
I  will  not  disappoint  the  trust  he  put  in  me.  * 

'"Even  if  you  die  of  it?' 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  whispered  these 
words  or  only  thought  them.  She  answered 
as  though  I  had  spoken. 

"'I  am  not  afraid  to  die.  I  am  more  afraid  to 
live.  She  may  ask  me  some  day  to  do  something 
I  feel  to  be  wrong. ' 

"  When  I  fled  down  the  hall  that  night,  I  heard 
one  of  the  small  clocks  speak  to  me.  Tell!  it 
cried,  tell!  tell!  tell!  tell!  I  rushed  away  from  it 
with  beaded  forehead  and  rising  hair. 

"Then  another's  note  piped  up.  No  it 
droned.  No!  no!  no!  no!  I  stopped  and  took 
heart.  Disgrace  the  woman  I  loved,  on  the  brink 
of  the  grave?  I — who  asked  no  other  boon  from 
heaven  than  to  see  her  happy,  gracious,  and  good? 
Impossible.  I  would  obey  the  great  clock's 
voice;  the  others  were  mere  chatterboxes. 

"  But  it  has  at  last  changed  its  tune,  for  some  rea 
son,  quite  changed  its  tune.  Now,  it  is  Yes!  Yes! 
instead  of  No!  and  in  obeying  it  I  save  Helena. 
But  what  of  Bella?  and  0  God,  what  of  myself?" 

A  sigh,  a  groan,  then  a  long  and  heavy  silence, 
into  which  there  finally  broke  the  pealing  of  the 


244  The  House  of  Clocks 

various  clocks  striking  the  hour.  When  all  were 
still  again  and  Violet  had  drawn  aside  the  portiere, 
it  was  to  see  the  old  man  on  his  knees,  and  between 
her  and  the  thin  streak  of  light  entering  from  the 
hall,  the  figure  of  the  doctor  hastening  to  Helena's 
bedside. 

When  with  inducements  needless  to  name,  they 
finally  persuaded  the  young  girl  to  leave  her 
unholy  habitation,  it  was  in  the  arms  which  had 
upheld  her  once  before,  and  to  a  life  which  prom 
ised  to  compensate  her  for  her  twenty  years  of 
loneliness  and  unsatisfied  longing. 

But  a  black  shadow  yet  remained  which  she 
must  cross  before  reaching  the  sunshine! 

It  lay  at  her  step-mother's  door. 

In  the  plans  made  for  Helena's  release,  Mrs. 
Postlethwaite's  consent  had  not  been  obtained, 
nor  was  she  supposed  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
doctor's  intentions  towards  the  child  whose  death 
she  was  hourly  awaiting. 

It  was  therefore  with  an  astonishment,  bordering 
on  awe,  that  on  their  way  downstairs,  they  saw  the 
door  of  her  room  open  and  herself  standing  alone 
and  upright  on  the  threshold — she  who  had  not 
been  seen  to  take  a  step  in  years.  In  the  wonder 
of  this  miracle  of  suddenly  restored  power,  the 


Problem  6  for  Violet  Strange      245 

little  procession  stopped, — the  doctor  with  his  hand 
upon  the  rail,  the  lover  with  his  burden  clasped 
yet  more  protectingly  to  his  breast.  That  a  little 
speech  awaited  them  could  be  seen  from  the  force 
and  fury  of  the  gaze  which  the  indomitable  woman 
bent  upon  the  lax  and  half -unconscious  figure  she 
beheld  thus  sheltered  and  conveyed.  Having 
but  one  arrow  left  in  her  exhausted  quiver,  she 
launched  it  straight  at  the  innocent  breast  which 
had  never  harboured  against  her  a  defiant  thought. 

"Ingrate!"  was  the  word  she  hurled  in  a  voice 
from  which  all  its  seductive  music  had  gone  for 
ever.  "Where  are  you  going?  Are  they  carrying 
you  alive  to  your  grave?" 

A  moan  from  Helena's  pale  lips,  then  silence. 
She  had  fainted  at  that  barbed  attack.  But  there 
was  one  there  who  dared  to  answer  for  her  and  he 
spoke  relentlessly.  It  was  the  man  who  loved  her. 

"No,  madam.  We  are  carrying  her  to  safety. 
You  must  know  what  I  mean  by  that.  Let  her  go 
quietly  and  you  may  die  in  peace.  Otherwise 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  loud  call,  startling 
into  life  the  echoes  of  that  haunted  hall : 

"Humphrey!     Come  to  me,  Humphrey!" 

But  no  Humphrey  appeared. 

Another  call,  louder  and  more  peremptory  than 
before: 


246  The  House  of  Clocks 

"Humphrey!     I  say,  Humphrey!" 

But  the  answer  was  the  same — silence,  and  only 
silence.  As  the  horror  of  this  grew,  the  doctor 
spoke : 

"Mr.  Humphrey  Dunbar's  ears  are  closed  to  all 
earthly  summons.  He  died  last  night  at  the  very 
hour  he  said  he  would — four  minutes  after  two." 

"  Four  minutes  after  two ! "  It  came  from  her  lips 
in  a  whisper,  but  with  a  revelation  of  her  broken 
heart  and  life.  "Four  minutes  after  two!11  And 
defiant  to  the  last,  her  head  rose,  and  for  an  in 
stant,  for  a  mere  breath  of  time,  they  saw  her  as 
she  had  looked  in  her  prime,  regal  in  form,  attitude, 
and  expression;  then  the  will  which  had  sustained 
her  through  so  much,  faltered  and  succumbed, 
and  with  a  final  reiteration  of  the  words  "Four 
minutes  after  two!"  she  broke  into  a  rattling 
laugh,  and  fell  back  into  the  arms  of  her  old  nurse. 

And  below,  one  clock  struck  the  hour  and  then 
another.  But  not  the  big  one  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  That  still  stood  silent,  with  its  hands  point 
ing  to  the  hour  and  minute  of  Frank  Postle- 
thwaite's  hastened  death. 

END  OF   PROBLEM  VI 


PROBLEM  VII 


THE  DOCTOR,  HIS  WIFE,  AND  THE   CLOCK 

\7IOLET  had  gone  to  her  room.  She  had  a  task 
*  before  her.  That  afternoon,  a  packet  had 
been  left  at  the  door,  which,  from  a  certain  letter 
scribbled  in  one  corner,  she  knew  to  be  from  her 
employer.  The  contents  of  that  packet  must  be 
read,  and  she  had  made  herself  comfortable  with 
the  intention  of  setting  to  work  at  once.  But 
ten  o'clock  struck  and  then  eleven  before  she  could 
bring  herself  to  give  any  attention  to  the  manu 
script  awaiting  her  perusal.  In  her  present  mood, 
a  quiet  sitting  by  the  fire,  with  her  eyes  upon  the 
changeful  flame,  was  preferable  to  the  study  of  any 
affair  her  employer  might  send  her.  Yet,  because 
she  was  conscious  of  the  duty  she  thus  openly 
neglected,  she  sat  crouched  over  her  desk  with  her 
hand  on  the  mysterious  packet,  the  string  of  which, 
however,  she  made  no  effort  to  loosen. 


248  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

What  was  she  thinking  of? 

We  are  not  alone  in  our  curiosity  on  this  subject. 
Her  brother  Arthur,  coming  unperceived  into  the 
room,  gives  tokens  of  a  similar  interest.  Never 
before  had  he  seen  her  oblivious  to  an  approaching 
step;  and  after  a  momentary  contemplation  of 
her  absorbed  figure,  so  girlishly  sweet  and  yet  so 
deeply  intent,  he  advances  to  her  side,  and  peer 
ing  earnestly  into  her  face,  observes  with  a  serious 
ness  quite  unusual  to  him: 

"Puss,  you  are  looking  worried, — not  like  your 
self  at  all.  I've  noticed  it  for  some  time.  What's 
up.  Getting  tired  of  the  business?" 

"No — not  altogether — that  is,  it's  not  that,  if  it's 
anything.  I'm  not  sure  that  it's  anything.  I " 

She  had  turned  back  to  her  desk  and  was  pushing 
about  the  various  articles  with  which  it  was  plenti 
fully  bespread ;  but  this  did  not  hide  the  flush  which 
had  crept  into  her  cheeks  and  even  dyed  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  her  neck.  Arthur's  astonishment  at 
this  evidence  of  emotion  was  very  great;  but  he 
said  nothing,  only  watched  her  still  more  closely, 
as  with  a  light  laugh  she  regained  her  self-posses 
sion,  and  with  the  practical  air  of  a  philosopher 
uttered  this  trite  remark: 

"Everyone  has  his  sober  moments.  I  was  only 
thinking " 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      249 

"Of  some  new  case?" 

"Not  exactly."  The  words  came  softly  but 
with  a  touch  of  mingled  humour  and  gravity 
which  made  Arthur  stare  again. 

"See  here,  Puss!"  he  cried.  His  tone  had 
changed.  "I've  just  come  up  from  the  den. 
Father  and  I  have  had  a  row — a  beastly  row. " 

"A  row?  You  and  father?  Oh,  Arthur,  I 
don't  like  that.  Don't  quarrel  with  father. 
Don't,  don't.  Some  day  he  and  I  may  have  a 
serious  difference  about  what  I  am  doing.  Don't 
let  him  feel  that  he  has  lost  us  all. " 

"That's  all  right,  Puss;  but  I've  got  to  think  of 
you  a  bit.  I  can't  see  you  spoil  all  your  good  times 
with  these  police  horrors  and  not  do  something  to 
help.  To-morrow  I  begin  life  as  a  salesman  in 
Clarke  &  Stebbin's.  The  salary  is  not  great, 
but  every  little  helps  and  I  don't  dislike  the  busi 
ness.  But  father  does.  He  had  rather  see  me 
loafing  about  town  setting  the  fashions  for  fel 
lows  as  idle  as  myself  than  soil  my  hands  with 
handling  merchandise.  That's  why  we  quar 
relled.  But  don't  worry.  Your  name  didn't 
come  up,  or — or — you  know  whose.  He  hasn't 
an  idea  of  why  I  want  to  work—  There,  Violet 
there!" 

Two  soft  arms  were  around  his  neck  and  Violet 


250  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

was  letting  her  heart  out  in  a  succession  of  sisterly 
kisses. 

"  O,  Arthur,  you  good,  good  boy !  Together  we'll 
soon  make  up  the  amount,  and  then " 

"Then  what?" 

A  sweet  soft  look  robbed  her  face  of  its  piquancy, 
but  gave  it  an  aspect  of  indescribable  beauty  quite 
new  to  Arthur's  eyes. 

Tapping  his  lips  with  a  thoughtful  forefinger, 
he  asked: 

"Who  was  that  sombre-looking  chap  I  saw  bow 
ing  to  you  as  we  came  out  of  church  last  Sunday?  " 

She  awoke  from  her  dreamy  state  with  an 
astonishing  quickness. 

"  He?  Surely  you  remember  him.  Have  you 
forgotten  that  evening  in  Massachusetts — the 
grotto — and ' ' 

"Oh,  it's  Upjohn,  is  it?  Yes,  I  remember  him. 
He's  fond  of  church,  isn't  he?  That  is,  when  he's 
in  New  York." 

Her  lips  took  a  roguish  curve  then  a  very  serious 
one;  but  she  made  no  answer. 

"I  have  noticed  that  he's  always  in  his  seat 
and  always  looking  your  way. " 

"That's  very  odd  of  him,"  she  declared,  her 
dimples  coming  and  going  in  a  most  bewildering 
fashion.  "  I  can't  imagine  why  he  should  do  that." 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      251 

"Nor  I,"  retorted  Arthur  with  a  smile.  "But 
he's  human,  I  suppose.  Only  do  be  careful,  Violet. 
A  man  so  melancholy  will  need  a  deal  of  cheering. " 

He  was  gone  before  he  had  fully  finished  this 
daring  remark,  and  Violet,  left  again  with  her 
thoughts,  lost  her  glowing  colour  but  not  her  pre 
occupation.  The  hand  which  lay  upon  the  packet 
already  alluded  to  did  not  move  for  many  minutes, 
and  when  she  roused  at  last  to  the  demands  of 
her  employer,  it  was  with  a  start  and  a  guilty  look 
at  the  small  gold  clock  ticking  out  its  inexorable 
reminder. 

"He  will  want  an  answer  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,"  she  complained  to  herself.  And  open 
ing  the  packet,  she  took  out  first  a  letter,  and  then  a 
mass  of  typewritten  manuscript. 

She  began  with  the  letter  which  was  as  character 
istic  of  the  writer  as  all  the  others  she  had  had  from 
his  hand;  as  witness: 

You  probably  remember  the  Hasbrouck  murder, 
• — or,  perhaps,  you  don't;  it  being  one  of  a  time 
previous  to  your  interest  in  such  matters.  But 
whether  you  remember  it  or  not,  I  beg  you  to  read 
the  accompanying  summary  with  due  care  and  at 
tention  to  business.  When  you  have  well  mastered 
it  with  all  its  details,  please  communicate  with  me 


252  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

in  any  manner  most  convenient  to  yourself,  for  I 
shall  have  a  word  to  say  to  you  then,  which  you 
may  be  glad  to  hear,  if  as  you  have  lately  intimated 
you  need  to  earn  but  one  or  two  more  substantial 
rewards  in  order  to  cry  halt  to  the  pursuit  for  which 
you  have  proved  yourself  so  well  qualified. 

The  story,  in  deference  to  yourself  as  a  young 
and  much  preoccupied  woman,  has  been  written 
in  a  way  to  interest.  Though  the  work  of  an  every 
day  police  detective,  you  will  find  in  it  no  lack  of 
mystery  or  romance;  and  if  at  the  end  you  perceive 
that  it  runs,  as  such  cases  frequently  do,  up  against 
a  perfectly  blank  wall,  you  must  remember  that 
openings  can  be  made  in  walls,  and  that  the  loosen 
ing  of  one  weak  stone  from  its  appointed  place, 
sometimes  leads  to  the  downfall  of  all. 

So  much  for  the  letter. 

Laying  it  aside,  with  a  shrug  of  her  expressive 
shoulders,  Violet  took  up  the  manuscript. 
Let  us  take  it  up  too.     It  runs  thus: 

On  the  1 7th  of  July,  19 — ,  a  tragedy  of  no  little 
interest  occurred  in  one  of  the  residences  of  the 
Colonnade  in  Lafayette  Place. 

Mr.  Hasbrouck,  a  well  known  and  highly  re 
spected  citizen,  was  attacked  in  his  room  by  an 
unknown  assailant,  and  shot  dead  before  assistance 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      253 

could  reach  him.  His  murderer  escaped,  and  the 
problem  offered  to  the  police  was  how  to  identify 
this  person  who,  by  some  happy  chance  or  by  the 
exercise  of  the  most  remarkable  forethought,  had 
left  no  traces  behind  him,  or  any  clue  by  which  he 
could  be  followed. 

The  details  of  the  investigation  which  ended  so 
unsatisfactorily  are  here  given  by  the  man  sent 
from  headquarters  at  the  first  alarm. 

When,  some  time  after  midnight  on  the  date 
above  mentioned,  I  reached  Lafayette  Place,  I 
found  the  block  lighted  from  end  to  end.  Groups 
of  excited  men  and  women  peered  from  the  open 
doorways,  and  mingled  their  shadows  with  those 
of  the  huge  pillars  which  adorn  the  front  of  this 
picturesque  block  of  dwellings. 

The  house  in  which  the  crime  had  been  com 
mitted  was  near  the  centre  of  the  row,  and,  long 
before  I  reached  it,  I  had  learned  from  more  than 
one  source  that  the  alarm  was  first  given  to  the 
street  by  a  woman's  shriek,  and  secondly  by  the 
shouts  of  an  old  man-servant  who  had  appeared, 
in  a  half-dressed  condition,  at  the  window 
of  Mr.  Hasbrouck's  room,  crying  " Murder! 
murder!" 

But  when  I  had  crossed  the  threshold,  I  was 


254  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

astonished  at  the  paucity  of  facts  to  be  gleaned 
from  the  inmates  themselves.  The  old  servant, 
who  was  the  first  to  talk,  had  only  this  account 
of  the  crime  to  give: 

The  family,  which  consisted  of  Mr.  Hasbrouck, 
his  wife,  and  three  servants,  had  retired  for 
the  night  at  the  usual  hour  and  under  the  usual 
auspices.  At  eleven  o  clock  the  lights  were  all 
extinguished,  and  the  whole  household  asleep,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  Mr.  Hasbrouck  himself, 
who,  being  a  man  of  large  business  responsibilities, 
was  frequently  troubled  with  insomnia. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Hasbrouck  woke  with  a  start. 
Had  she  dreamed  the  words  that  were  ringing  in  her 
ears,  or  had  they  been  actually  uttered  in  her 
hearing?  They  were  short,  sharp  words,  full  of 
terror  and  menace,  and  she  had  nearly  satisfied 
herself  that  she  had  imagined  them,  when  there 
came,  from  somewhere  near  the  door,  a  sound  she 
neither  understood  nor  could  interpret,  but  which 
filled  her  with  inexplicable  terror,  and  made  her 
afraid  to  breathe,  or  even  to  stretch  forth  her  hand 
towards  her  husband,  whom  she  supposed  to  be 
sleeping  at  her  side.  At  length  another  strange 
sound,  which  she  was  sure  was  not  due  to  her 
imagination,  drove  her  to  make  an  attempt  to  rouse 
him,  when  she  was  horrified  to  find  that  she  was 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      255 

alone  in  bed,  and  her  husband  nowhere  within 
reach. 

Filled  now  with  something  more  than  nervous 
apprehension,  she  flung  herself  to  the  floor,  and 
tried  to  penetrate  with  frenzied  glances,  the  sur 
rounding  darkness.  But  the  blinds  and  shutters 
both  having  been  carefully  closed  by  Mr.  Has- 
brouck  before  retiring,  she  found  this  impossible, 
and  she  was  about  to  sink  in  terror  to  the  floor, 
when  she  heard  a  low  gasp  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room  followed  by  a  suppressed  cry. 

"God!  what  have  I  done!" 

The  voice  was  a  strange  one,  but  before  the  fear 
aroused  by  this  fact  could  culminate  in  a  shriek  of 
dismay,  she  caught  the  sound  of  retreating  foot 
steps,  and,  eagerly  listening,  she  heard  them  de 
scend  the  stairs  and  depart  by  the  front  door. 

Had  she  known  what  had  occurred — had  there 
been  no  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  what  lay  in  the 
darkness  on  the  other  side  of  the  room — it  is  likely 
that,  at  the  noise  caused  by  the  closing  front  door, 
she  would  have  made  at  once  for  the  balcony  that 
opened  out  from  the  window  before  which  she  was 
standing,  and  taken  one  look  at  the  flying  figure 
below.  But  her  uncertainty  as  to  what  lay  hidden 
from  her  by  the  darkness  chained  her  feet  to  the 
floor,  and  there  is  no  knowing  when  she  would  have 


256  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

moved,  if  a  carriage  had  not  at  that  moment  passed 
down  Astor  Place,  bringing  with  it  a  sense  of  com 
panionship  which  broke  the  spell  holding  her,  and 
gave  her  strength  to  light  the  gas  which  was  in 
ready  reach  of  her  hand. 

As  the  sudden  blaze  illuminated  the  room, 
revealing  in  a  burst  the  old  familiar  walls  and  well- 
known  pieces  of  furniture,  she  felt  for  a  moment  as 
if  released  from  some  heavy  nightmare  and  re 
stored  to  the  common  experiences  of  life.  But  in 
another  instant  her  former  dread  returned,  and 
she  found  herself  quaking  at  the  prospect  of  passing 
around  the  foot  of  the  bed  into  that  part  of  the 
room  which  was  as  yet  hidden  from  her  eyes. 

But  the  desperation  which  comes  with  great 
crises  finally  drove  her  from  her  retreat ;  and,  creep 
ing  slowly  forward,  she  cast  one  glance  at  the  floor 
before  her,  when  she  found  her  worst  fears  realized 
by  the  sight  of  the  dead  body  of  her  husband  lying 
prone  before  the  open  doorway,  with  a  bullet-hole 
in  his  forehead. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  shriek,  but,  by  a  power 
ful  exercise  of  will,  she  checked  herself,  and  ring 
ing  frantically  for  the  servants  who  slept  on  the  top 
floor  of  the  house,  flew  to  the  nearest  window  and 
endeavoured  to  open  it.  But  the  shutters  had 
been  bolted  so  securely  by  Mr.  Hasbrouck,  in  his 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      257 

endeavour  to  shut  out  all  light  and  sound,  that  by 
the  time  she  had  succeeded  in  unfastening  them,  all 
trace  of  the  flying  murderer  had  vanished  from  the 
street. 

Sick  with  grief  and  terror,  she  stepped  back  into 
the  room  just  as  the  three  frightened  servants 
descended  the  stairs.  As  they  appeared  in  the 
open  doorway,  she  pointed  at  her  husband's  in 
animate  form,  and  then,  as  if  suddenly  realizing 
in  its  full  force  the  calamity  which  had  befallen 
her,  she  threw  up  her  arms,  and  sank  forward  to 
the  floor  in  a  dead  faint. 

The  two  women  rushed  to  her  assistance,  but  the 
old  butler,  bounding  over  the  bed,  sprang  to  the 
window,  and  shrieked  his  alarm  to  the  street. 

In  the  interim  that  followed,  Mrs.  Hasbrouck 
was  revived,  and  the  master's  body  laid  decently 
on  the  bed;  but  no  pursuit  was  made,  nor  any 
inquiries  started  likely  to  assist  me  in  establishing 
the  indentity  of  the  assailant. 

Indeed,  everyone  both  in  the  house  and  out, 
seemed  dazed  by  the  unexpected  catastrophe,  and 
as  no  one  had  any  suspicions  to  offer  as  to  the 
probable  murderer,  I  had  a  difficult  task  before 
me. 

I  began  in  the  usual  way,  by  inspecting  the 
scene  of  the  murder.  I  found  nothing  in  the  room, 


258  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

or  in  the  condition  of  the  body  itself,  which  added 
an  iota  to  the  knowledge  already  obtained.  That 
Mr.  Hasbrouck  had  been  in  bed ;  that  he  had  risen 
upon  hearing  a  noise;  and  that  he  had  been  shot 
before  reaching  the  door,  were  self-evident  facts. 
But  there  was  nothing  to  guide  me  further.  The 
very  simplicity  of  the  circumstances  caused  a 
dearth  of  clues,  which  made  the  difficulty  of  pro 
cedure  as  great  as  any  I  had  ever  encountered. 

My  search  through  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs 
elicited  nothing;  and  an  investigation  of  the  bolts 
and  bars  by  which  the  house  was  secured,  assured 
me  that  the  assassin  had  either  entered  by  the  front 
door,  or  had  already  been  secreted  in  the  house 
when  it  was  locked  up  for  the  night. 

"I  shall  have  to  trouble  Mrs.  Hasbrouck  for  a 
short  interview, "  I  hereupon  announced  to  the 
trembling  old  servant,  who  had  followed  me  like 
a  dog  about  the  house. 

He  made  no  demur,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  newly  made  widow, 
who  sat  quite  alone,  in  a  large  chamber  in  the  rear. 
As  I  crossed  the  threshold  she  looked  up,  and  I 
encountered  a  good,  plain  face,  without  the  shadow 
of  guile  in  it. 

''Madam, "  said  I,  "I  have  not  come  to  disturb 
you.  I  will  ask  two  or  three  questions  only,  and 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      259 

then  leave  you  to  your  grief.  I  am  told  that  some 
words  came  from  the  assassin  before  he  delivered  his 
fatal  shot.  Did  you  hear  these  distinctly  enough 
to  tell  me  what  they  were?" 

"I  was  sound  asleep,"  said  she,  "and  dreamt, 
as  I  thought,  that  a  fierce,  strange  voice  cried 
somewhere  to  some  one:  'Ah!  you  did  not  expect 
me!1  But  I  dare  not  say  that  these  words  were 
really  uttered  to  my  husband,  for  he  was  not  the 
man  to  call  forth  hate,  and  only  a  man  in  the  ex 
tremity  of  passion  could  address  such  an  exclama 
tion  in  such  a  tone  as  rings  in  my  memory  in 
connection  with  the  fatal  shot  which  woke  me. ' ' 

"But  that  shot  was  not  the  work  of  a  friend," 
I  argued.  "If,  as  these  words  seem  to  prove,  the 
assassin  had  some  other  motive  than  plunder  in  his 
assault,  then  your  husband  had  an  enemy,  though 
you  never  suspected  it." 

"Impossible!"  was  her  steady  reply,  uttered  in 
the  most  convincing  tone.  "The  man  who  shot 
him  was  a  common  burglar,  and  frightened  at 
having  been  betrayed  into  murder,  fled  without 
looking  for  booty.  I  am  sure  I  heard  him  cry 
out  in  terror  and  remorse:  'God!  what  have  I 
done!" 

"Was  that  before  you  left  the  side  of  the  bed?" 

"Yes;  I  did  not  move  from  my  place  till  I  heard 


260  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clod* 

the  front  door  close.  I  was  paralysed  by  fear  and 
dread." 

''Are  you  in  the  habit  of  trusting  to  the  security 
of  a  latch-lock  only  in  the  fastening  of  your  front 
door  at  night  ?  I  am  told  that  the  big  key  was  not 
in  the  lock,  and  that  the  bolt  at  the  bottom  of  the 
door  was  not  drawn." 

"The  bolt  at  the  bottom  of  the  door  is  never 
drawn.  Mr.  Hasbrouck  was  so  good  a  man  that 
he  never  mistrusted  any  one.  That  is  why  the  big 
lock  was  not  fastened.  The  key,  not  working 
well,  he  took  it  some  days  ago  to  the  locksmith,  and 
when  the  latter  failed  to  return  it,  he  laughed,  and 
said  he  thought  no  one  would  ever  think  of 
meddling  with  his  front  door." 

"Is  there  more  than  one  night-key  to  your 
house?"  I  now  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"And  when  did  Mr.  Hasbrouck  last  use  his?" 

"To-night,  when  he  came  home  from  prayer 
meeting, "  she  answered,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Her  grief  was  so  real  and  her  loss  so  recent  that 
I  hesitated  to  afflict  her  by  further  questions.  So 
returning  to  the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  I  stepped  out 
upon  the  balcony  which  ran  in  front.  Soft  voices 
instantly  struck  my  ears.  The  neighbours  on 
either  side  were  grouped  in  front  of  their  own  win- 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      261 

dows,  and  were  exchanging  the  remarks  natural 
under  the  circumstances.  I  paused,  as  in  duty 
bound,  and  listened.  But  I  heard  nothing  worth 
recording,  and  would  have  instantly  re-entered  the 
house,  if  I  had  not  been  impressed  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  very  graceful  woman  who  stood  at 
my  right.  She  was  clinging  to  her  husband,  who 
was  gazing  at  one  of  the  pillars  before  him  in  a 
strange  fixed  way  which  astonished  me  till  he 
attempted  to  move,  and  then  I  saw  that  he  was 
blind.  I  remembered  that  there  lived  in  this  row 
a  blind  doctor,  equally  celebrated  for  his  skill  and 
for  his  uncommon  personal  attractions,  and 
greatly  interested  not  only  by  his  affliction,  but  in 
the  sympathy  evinced  by  his  young  and  affection 
ate  wife,  I  stood  still,  till  I  heard  her  say  in  the 
soft  and  appealing  tones  of  love : 

"Come  in,  Constant;  you  have  heavy  duties  for 
to-morrow,  and  you  should  get  a  few  hours'  rest 
if  possible." 

He  came  from  the  shadow  of  the  pillar,  and  for 
one  minute  I  saw  his  face  with  the  lamplight  shin 
ing  full  upon  it.  It  was  as  regular  of  feature  as  a 
sculptured  Adonis,  and  it  was  as  white. 

"Sleep!"  he  repeated,  in  the  measured  tones  of 
deep  but  suppressed  feeling.  "  Sleep !  with  murder 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall!"  And  he  stretched 


262  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

out  his  arms  in  a  dazed  way  that  insensibly  accen 
tuated  the  horror  I  myself  felt  of  the  crime  which 
had  so  lately  taken  place  in  the  room  behind  me. 

She,  noting  the  movement,  took  one  of  the  grop 
ing  hands  in  her  own  and  drew  him  gently  towards 
her. 

"This  way,"  she  urged;  and,  guiding  him  into 
the  house,  she  closed  the  window  and  drew  down 
the  shades. 

I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  for  my  curiosity,  but  the 
interest  excited  in  me  by  this  totally  irrelevant 
episode  was  so  great  that  I  did  not  leave  the 
neighbourhood  till  I  had  learned  something  of 
this  remarkable  couple. 

The  story  told  me  was  very  simple.  Dr.  Za- 
briskie  had  not  been  born  blind,  but  had  become 
so  after  a  grievous  illness  which  had  stricken  him 
down  soon  after  he  received  his  diploma.  Instead 
of  succumbing  to  an  affliction  which  would  have 
daunted  most  men,  he  expressed  his  intention  of 
practising  his  profession,  and  soon  became  so 
successful  in  it  that  he  found  no  difficulty  in  estab 
lishing  himself  in  one  of  the  best  paying  quarters 
of  the  city.  Indeed,  his  intuition  seemed  to  have 
developed  in  a  remarkable  degree  after  the  loss  of 
his  sight,  and  he  seldom,  if  ever,  made  a  mistake 
in  diagnosis.  Considering  this  fact,  and  the  per- 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      263 

sonal  attractions  which  gave  him  distinction,  it 
was  no  wonder  that  he  soon  became  a  popular 
physician  whose  presence  was  a  benefaction  and 
whose  word  law. 

He  had  been  engaged  to  be  married  at  the  time 
of  his  illness,  and  when  he  learned  what  was  likely 
to  be  its  result,  had  offered  to  release  the  young 
lady  from  all  obligation  to  him.  But  she  would 
not  be  released,  and  they  were  married.  This  had 
taken  place  some  five  years  previous  to  Mr. 
Hasbrouck's  death,  three  of  which  had  been  spent 
by  them  in  Lafayette  Place. 

So  much  for  the  beautiful  woman  next  door. 

There  being  absolutely  no  clue  to  the  assailant 
of  Mr.  Hasbrouck,  I  naturally  looked  forward  to 
the  inquest  for  some  evidence  upon  which  to  work. 
But  there  seemed  to  be  no  underlying  facts  to  this 
tragedy.  The  most  careful  study  into  the  habits 
and  conduct  of  the  deceased  brought  nothing  to 
light  save  his  general  beneficence  and  rectitude, 
nor  was  there  in  his  history  or  in  that  of  his  wife, 
any  secret  or  hidden  obligation  calculated  to  pro 
voke  any  such  act  of  revenge  as  murder.  Mrs. 
Hasbrouck's  surmise  that  the  intruder  was  simply 
a  burglar,  and  that  she  had  rather  imagined  than 
heard  the  words  which  pointed  to  the  shooting  as 
a  deed  of  vengeance,  soon  gained  general  credence. 


264  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

But  though  the  police  worked  long  and  arduously 
in  this  new  direction  their  efforts  were  without  fruit 
and  the  case  bids  fair  to  remain  an  unsolvable 
mystery. 

That  was  all.  As  Violet  dropped  the  last  page 
from  her  hand,  she  recalled  a  certain  phrase  in  her 
employer's  letter.  "If  at  the  end  you  come  upon 
a  perfectly  blank  wall—  Well,  she  had  come  upon 
this  wall.  Did  he  expect  her  to  make  an  opening 
in  it?  Or  had  he  already  done  so  himself,  and  was 
merely  testing  her  much  vaunted  discernment. 

Piqued  by  the  thought,  she  carefully  reread 
the  manuscript,  and  when  she  had  again  reached 
its  uncompromising  end,  she  gave  herself  up  to  a 
few  minutes  of  concentrated  thought,  then,  taking 
a  sheet  of  paper  from  the  rack  before  her,  she  wrote 
upon  it  a  single  sentence,  and  folding  the  sheet, 
put  it  in  an  envelope  which  she  left  unaddressed. 
This  done,  she  went  to  bed  and  slept  like  the  child 
she  really  was. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  she  entered 
her  employer's  office.  Acknowledging  with  a  nod 
his  somewhat  ceremonious  bow,  she  handed  him 
the  envelope  in  which  she  had  enclosed  that  one 
mysterious  sentence. 

He  took  it  with  a  smile,  opened  it  offhand, 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      265 

glanced  at  what  she  had  written,  and  flushed  a 
vivid  red. 

"You  are  a — brick"  he  was  going  to  say,  but 
changed  the  last  word  to  one  more  in  keeping 
with  her  character  and  appearance.  "Look  here.  I 
expected  this  from  you  and  so  prepared  myself. " 
Taking  out  a  similar  piece  of  paper  from  his  own 
pocket-book,  he  laid  it  down  beside  hers  on  the 
desk  before  him.  It  also  held  a  single  sentence 
and,  barring  a  slight  difference  of  expression,  the 
one  was  the  counterpart  of  the  other.  "The  one 
loose  stone,"  he  murmured. 

"Seen  and  noted  by  both/' 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  Then  as  she  glanced 
expectantly  his  way,  he  earnestly  added:  "To 
gether  we  may  be  able  to  do  something.  The 
reward  offered  by  Mrs.  Hasbrouck  for  the  detec 
tion  of  the  murderer  was  a  very  large  one.  She  is  a 
woman  of  means.  I  have  never  heard  of  its  being 
withdrawn." 

"Then  it  never  has  been,"  was  Violet's  emphatic 
conclusion,  her  dimples  enforcing  the  statement  as 
only  such  dimples  can.  "  But — what  do  you  want 
of  me  in  an  affair  of  this  kind?  Something  more 
than  to  help  you  locate  the  one  possible  clue 
to  further  enlightenment.  You  would  not  have 
mentioned  the  big  reward  just  for  that." 


266  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

"  Perhaps  not.  There  is  a  sequel  to  the  story 
I  sent  you.  I  have  written  it  out,  with  my  own 
hand.  Take  it  home  and  read  it  at  your  leisure. 
When  you  see  into  what  an  unhappy  maze  my  own 
inquiries  have  led  me,  possibly  you  will  be  glad  to 
assist  me  in  clearing  up  a  situation  which  is  inflict 
ing  great  suffering  on  one  whom  you  will  be  the 
first  to  pity.  If  so,  a  line  mentioning  the  fact  will 
be  much  appreciated  by  me."  And  disregarding 
her  startled  look  and  the  impetuous  shaking  of 
her  head,  he  bowed  her  out  with  something  more 
than  his  accustomed  suavity  but  also  with  a  seri 
ousness  which  affected  her  in  spite  of  herself  and 
effectually  held  back  the  protest  it  was  in  her  heart 
to  make.  She  was  glad  of  this  when  she  read  his 
story ;  but  later  on 

However,  it  is  not  for  me  to  intrude  Violet,  or 
Violet's  feelings  into  an  affair  which  she  is  so 
anxious  to  forget.  I  shall  therefore  from  this 
moment  on,  leave  her  as  completely  out  of  this  tale 
of  crime  and  retribution  as  is  possible  and  keep  a 
full  record  of  her  work.  When  she  is  necessary  to 
the  story,  you  will  see  her  again.  Meanwhile, 
read  with  her,  this  relation  of  her  employer's 
unhappy  attempt  to  pursue  an  investigation  so 
openly  dropped  by  the  police.  You  will  perceive, 
from  its  general  style  and  the  accentuation  put 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      267 

upon  the  human  side  of  this  sombre  story,  a  like 
ness  to  the  former  manuscript  which  may  prove  to 
you,  as  it  certainly  did  to  Violet,  to  whose  consider 
ation  she  was  indebted  for  the  readableness  of  the 
policeman's  report,  which  in  all  probability  had 
been  a  simple  statement  of  facts. 

But  there,  I  am  speaking  of  Violet  again.  To 
prevent  a  further  mischance  of  this  nature,  I  will 
introduce  at  once  the  above  mentioned  account. 

II 

No  man  in  all  New  York  was  ever  more  inter 
ested  than  myself  in  the  Hasbrouck  affair,  when 
it  was  the  one  and  only  topic  of  interest  at  a  period 
when  news  was  unusually  scarce.  But,  together 
with  many  such  inexplicable  mysteries,  it  had 
passed  almost  completely  from  my  mind,  when  it 
was  forcibly  brought  back,  one  day,  by  a  walk  I 
took  through  Lafayette  Place. 

At  sight  of  the  long  row  of  uniform  buildings, 
with  their  pillared  fronts  and  connecting  balconies 
every  detail  of  the  crime  which  had  filled  the  papers 
at  the  time  with  innumerable  conjectures  re 
turned  to  me  with  extraordinary  clearness,  and, 
before  I  knew  it,  I  found  myself  standing  stock- 
still  in  the  middle  of  the  block  with  my  eye  raised 
to  the  Hasbrouck  house  and  my  ears — or  rather 


268  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

my  inner  consciousness,  for  no  one  spoke  I  am 
sure — ringing  with  a  question  which,  whether  the 
echo  of  some  old  thought  or  the  expression  of  a 
new  one,  so  affected  me  by  the  promise  it  held  of 
some  hitherto  unsuspected  clue,  that  I  hesitated 
whether  to  push  this  new  inquiry  then  or  there  by 
an  attempted  interview  with  Mrs.  Hasbrouck,  or 
to  wait  till  I  had  given  it  the  thought  which  such  a 
stirring  of  dead  bones  rightfully  demanded. 

You  know  what  that  question  was.  I  shall  have 
communicated  it  to  you,  if  you  have  not  already 
guessed  it,  before  perusing  these  lines: 

11  Who  uttered  the  scream  which  gave  the  first  alarm 
of  Mr.  Hasbrouck1  s  violent  death?" 

I  was  in  a  state  of  such  excitement  as  I  walked 
away — for  I  listened  to  my  better  judgment  as  to 
the  inadvisability  of  my  disturbing  Mrs.  Has 
brouck  with  these  new  inquiries — that  the  perspira 
tion  stood  out  on  my  forehead.  The  testimony 
she  had  given  at  the  inquest  recurred  to  me,  and 
I  remembered  as  distinctly  as  if  she  were  then 
speaking,  that  she  had  expressly  stated  that  she 
did  not  scream  when  confronted  by  the  sight  of  her 
husband's  dead  body.  But  someone  had  screamed 
and  that  very  loudly.  Who  was  it,  then?  One  of 
the  maids,  startled  by  the  sudden  summons  from 
below,  or  someone  else — some  involuntary  witness 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      269 

of  the  crime,  whose  testimony  had  been  suppressed 
at  the  inquest,  by  fear  or  influence? 

The  possibility  of  having  come  upon  a  clue  even 
at  this  late  day  so  fired  my  ambition  that  I  took 
the  first  opportunity  of  revisiting  Lafayette  Place. 
Choosing  such  persons  as  I  thought  most  open  to 
my  questions,  I  learned  that  there  were  many  who 
could  testify  to  having  heard  a  woman's  shrill 
scream  on  that  memorable  night,  just  prior  to  the 
alarm  given  by  old  Cyrus,  but  no  one  who  could 
tell  from  whose  lips  it  had  come.  One  fact,  how 
ever,  was  immediately  settled.  It  had  not  been 
the  result  of  the  servant- women's  fears.  Both  of 
the  girls  were  positive  that  they  had  uttered  no 
sound,  nor  had  they  themselves  heard  any  till 
Cyrus  rushed  to  the  window  with  his  wild  cries. 
As  the  scream,  by  whomever  given,  was  uttered 
before  they  descended  the  stairs,  I  was  convinced 
by  these  assurances  that  it  had  issued  from  one  of 
the  front  windows,  and  not  from  the  rear  of  the 
house,  where  their  own  rooms  lay.  Could  it  be 
that  it  had  sprung  from  the  adjoining  dwelling, 
and  that 

I  remembered  who  had  lived  there  and  was  for 
ringing  the  bell  at  once.  But,  missing  the  doctor's 
sign,  I  made  inquiries  and  found  that  he  had  moved 
from  the  block.  However,  a  doctor  is  soon  found, 


270  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

and  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  I  was  at  the  door 
of  his  new  home,  where  I  asked,  not  for  him,  but 
for  Mrs.  Zabriskie. 

It  required  some  courage  to  do  this,  for  I  had 
taken  particular  notice  of  the  doctor's  wife  at  the 
inquest,  and  her  beauty,  at  that  time,  had  worn 
such  an  aspect  of  mingled  sweetness  and  dignity 
that  I  hesitated  to  encounter  it  under  any  circum 
stances  likely  to  disturb  its  pure  serenity.  But  a 
clue  once  grasped  cannot  be  lightly  set  aside  by  a 
true  detective,  and  it  would  have  taken  more 
than  a  woman's  frowns  to  stop  me  at  this 
point. 

However,  it  was  not  with  frowns  she  received  me, 
but  with  a  display  of  emotion  for  which  I  was  even 
less  prepared.  I  had  sent  up  my  card  and  I  saw 
it  trembling  in  her  hand  as  she  entered  the  room. 
As  she  neared  me,  she  glanced  at  it,  and  with  a 
show  of  gentle  indifference  which  did  not  in  the 
least  disguise  her  extreme  anxiety,  she  courteously 
remarked : 

"Your  name  is  an  unfamiliar  one  to  me.  But 
you  told  my  maid  that  your  business  was  one  of 
extreme  importance,  and  so  I  have  consented  to  see 
you.  What  can  an  agent  from  a  private  detective 
office  have  to  say  to  me?" 

Startled  by  this  evidence  of  the  existence  of  some 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      271 

hidden  skeleton  in  her  own  closet,  I  made  an 
immediate  attempt  to  reassure  her. 

"Nothing  which  concerns  you  personally, "  said 
I.  "I  simply  wish  to  ask  you  a  question  in 
regard  to  a  small  matter  connected  with  Mr. 
Hasbrouck's  violent  death  in  Lafayette  Place,  a 
couple  of  years  ago.  You  were  living  in  the  adjoin 
ing  house  at  the  time  I  believe,  and  it  has  occurred 
to  me  that  you  might  on  that  account  be  able  to 
settle  a  point  which  has  never  been  fully  cleared 
up." 

Instead  of  showing  the  relief  I  expected,  her 
pallor  increased  and  her  fine  eyes,  which  had  been 
fixed  curiously  upon  me,  sank  in  confusion  to  the 
floor. 

"Great  heaven!"  thought  I.  "She  looks  as  if 
at  one  more  word  from  me,  she  would  fall  at  my 
feet  in  a  faint.  What  is  this  I  have  stumbled 
upon!" 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  have  any  question  to 
ask  me  on  that  subject, "  she  began  with  an  effort 
at  composure  which  for  some  reason  disturbed 
me  more  than  her  previous  open  display  of  fear. 
"Yet  if  you  have,"  she  continued,  with  a  rapid 
change  of  manner  that  touched  my  heart  in  spite 
of  myself,  "I  shall,  of  course,  do  my  best  to  answer 
you. " 


272  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

There  are  women  whose  sweetest  tones  and  most 
charming  smiles  only  serve  to  awaken  distrust  in 
men  of  my  calling;  but  Mrs.  Zabriskie  was  not  of 
this  number.  Her  face  was  beautiful,  but  it  was 
also  candid  in  its  expression,  and  beneath  the  agita 
tion  which  palpably  disturbed  her,  I  was  sure  there 
lurked  nothing  either  wicked  or  false.  Yet  I  held 
fast  by  the  clue  which  I  had  grasped  as  it  were  in 
the  dark,  and  without  knowing  whither  I  was  tend 
ing,  much  less  whither  I  was  leading  her,  I  pro 
ceeded  to  say: 

"The  question  which  I  presume  to  put  to  you  as 
the  next  door  neighbour  of  Mr.  Hasbrouck  is  this : 
Who  wTas  the  woman  who  on  the  night  of  that 
gentleman's  assassination  screamed  out  so  loudly 
that  the  whole  neighbourhood  heard  her?" 

The  gasp  she  gave  answered  my  question  in  a 
way  she  little  realized,  and  struck  as  I  was  by  the 
impalpable  links  that  had  led  me  to  the  threshold 
of  this  hitherto  unsolvable  mystery,  I  was  about 
to  press  my  advantage  and  ask  another  question, 
when  she  quickly  started  forward  and  laid  her 
hand  on  my  lips. 

Astonished,  I  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  but  her 
head  was  turned  aside,  and  her  eyes,  fixed  upon  the 
door,  showed  the  greatest  anxiety.  Instantly  I 
realized  what  she  feared.  Her  husband  was 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      273 

entering  the  house,  and  she  dreaded  lest  his  ears 
should  catch  a  word  of  our  conversation. 

Not  knowing  what  was  in  her  mind,  and  unable 
to  realize  the  importance  of  the  moment  to  her,  I 
yet  listened  to  the  advance  of  her  blind  husband 
with  an  almost  painful  interest.  Would  he  enter 
the  room  where  we  were,  or  would  he  pass  imme 
diately  to  his  office  in  the  rear?  She  seemed  to 
wonder  too,  and  almost  held  her  breath  as  he 
neared  the  door,  paused,  and  stood  in  the  open 
doorway,  with  his  ear  turned  towards  us. 

As  for  myself,  I  remained  perfectly  still,  gazing 
at  his  face  in  mingled  surprise  and  apprehension. 
For  besides  its  beauty,  which  was  of  a  marked 
order,  as  I  have  already  observed,  it  had  a  touching 
expression  which  irresistibly  aroused  both  pity  and 
interest  in  the  spectator.  This  may  have  been 
the  result  of  his  affliction,  or  it  may  have  sprung 
from  some  deeper  cause ;  but,  whatever  its  source, 
this  look  in  his  face  produced  a  strong  impression 
upon  me  and  interested  me  at  once  in  his  personal 
ity.  Would  he  enter;  or  would  he  pass  on?  Her 
look  of  silent  appeal  showed  me  in  which  direction 
her  wishes  lay,  but  while  I  answered  her  glance  by 
complete  silence,  I  was  conscious  in  some  indistinct 
way  that  the  business  I  had  undertaken  would  be 
better  furthered  by  his  entrance. 

18 


274  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

The  blind  have  often  been  said  to  possess  a  sixth 
sense  in  place  of  the  one  they  have  lost.  Though 
I  am  sure  we  made  no  noise,  I  soon  perceived  that 
he  was  aware  of  our  presence.  Stepping  hastily 
forward  he  said,  in  the  high  and  vibrating  tone  of 
restrained  passion: 

"Zulma,  are  you  there?" 

For  a  moment  I  thought  she  did  not  mean  to 
answer,  but  knowing  doubtless  from  experience  the 
impossibility  of  deceiving  him,  she  answered  with 
a  cheerful  assent,  dropping  her  hand  as  she  did 
so  from  before  my  lips. 

He  heard  the  slight  rustle  which  accompanied  the 
movement,  and  a  look  I  found  it  hard  to  compre 
hend  flashed  over  his  features,  altering  his  expression 
so  completely  that  he  seemed  another  man. 

"You  have  someone  with  you,"  he  declared, 
advancing  another  step,  but  with  none  of  the 
uncertainty  which  usually  accompanies  the  move 
ments  of  the  blind.  "Some  dear  friend,"  he 
went  on,  with  an  almost  sarcastic  emphasis  and  a 
forced  smile  that  had  little  of  gaiety  in  it. 

The  agitated  and  distressed  blush  which  an 
swered  him  could  have  but  one  interpretation. 
He  suspected  that  her  hand  had  been  clasped  in 
mine,  and  she  perceived  his  thought  and  knew  that 
I  perceived  it  also. 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      275 

Drawing  herself  up,  she  moved  towards  him, 
saying  in  a  sweet  womanly  tone: 

"  It  is  no  friend,  Constant,  not  even  an  acquaint 
ance.  The  person  whom  I  now  present  to  you  is 
a  representative  from  some  detective  agency.  He 
is  here  upon  a  trivial  errand  which  will  soon  be 
finished,  when  I  will  join  you  in  the  office. " 

I  knew  she  was  but  taking  a  choice  between  two 
evils,  that  she  would  have  saved  her  husband 
the  knowledge  of  my  calling  as  well  as  of  my 
presence  in  the  house,  if  her  self-respect  would  have 
allowed  it;  but  neither  she  nor  I  anticipated  the 
effect  which  this  introduction  of  myself  in  my 
business  capacity  would  produce  upon  him. 

"A  detective,"  he  repeated,  staring  with  his 
sightless  eyes,  as  if,  in  his  eagerness  to  see,  he  half 
hoped  his  lost  sense  would  return.  "He  can  have 
no  trivial  errand  here;  he  has  been  sent  by  God 
Himself  to " 

"Let  me  speak  for  you,"  hastily  interposed  his 
wife,  springing  to  his  side  and  clasping  his  arm  with 
a  fervour  that  was  equally  expressive  of  appeal 
and  command.  Then  turning  to  me,  she  explained : 
"Since  Mr.  Hasbrouck's  unaccountable  death,  my 
husband  has  been  labouring  under  an  hallucination 
which  I  have  only  to  mention,  for  you  to  recognize 
its  perfect  absurdity.  He  thinks — oh!  do  not 


276  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

look  like  that,  Constant;  you  know  it  is  an  hallu 
cination  which  must  vanish  the  moment  we  drag 
it  into  broad  daylight — that  he — he,  the  best  man 
in  all  the  world,  was  himself  the  assailant  of  Mr. 
Hasbrouck. " 

Good  God! 

"I  say  nothing  of  the  impossibility  of  this  being 
so, "  she  went  on  in  a  fever  of  expostulation. 
''He  is  blind,  and  could  not  have  delivered  such  a 
shot  even  if  he  had  desired  to;  besides,  he  had  no 
weapon.  But  the  inconsistency  of  the  thing 
speaks  for  itself,  and  should  assure  him  that  his 
mind  is  unbalanced  and  that  he  is  merely  suffering 
from  a  shock  that  was  greater  than  we  realized. 
He  is  a  physician  and  has  had  many  such  instances 
in  his  own  practice.  Why,  he  was  very  much 
attached  to  Mr.  Hasbrouck!  They  were  the  best 
of  friends,  and  though  he  insists  that  he  killed  him, 
he  cannot  give  any  reason  for  the  deed. " 

At  these  words  the  doctor's  face  grew  stern, 
and  he  spoke  like  an  automaton  repeating  some 
fearful  lesson : 

"I  killed  him.  I  went  to  his  room  and  deliber 
ately  shot  him.  I  had  nothing  against  him,  and 
my  remorse  is  extreme.  Arrest  me  and  let  me  pay 
the  penalty  of  my  crime.  It  is  the  only  way  in 
which  I  can  obtain  peace. " 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      277 

Shocked  beyond  all  power  of  self-control  by 
this  repetition  of  what  she  evidently  considered  the 
unhappy  ravings  of  a  madman,  she  let  go  his  arm 
and  turned  upon  me  in  frenzy. 

* '  Convince  him ! "  she  cried.  ' '  Convince  him  by 
your  questions  that  he  never  could  have  done  this 
fearful  thing. " 

I  was  labouring  under  great  excitement  myself, 
for  as  a  private  agent  with  no  official  authority  such 
as  he  evidently  attributed  to  me  in  the  blindness 
of  his  passion,  I  felt  the  incongruity  of  my  position 
in  the  face  of  a  matter  of  such  tragic  consequence. 
Besides,  I  agreed  with  her  that  he  was  in  a  dis 
tempered  state  of  mind,  and  I  hardly  knew  how  to 
deal  with  one  so  fixed  in  his  hallucination  and  with 
so  much  intelligence  to  support  it.  But  the  emer 
gency  was  great,  for  he  was  holding  out  his  wrists 
in  the  evident  expectation  of  my  taking  him  into 
instant  custody ;  and  the  sight  was  killing  his  wife, 
who  had  sunk  on  the  floor  between  us,  in  terror 
and  anguish. 

"You  say  you  killed  Mr.  Hasbrouck, "  I  began. 
"Where  did  you  get  your  pistol,  and  what  did  you 
do  with  it  after  you  left  his  house? " 

"My  husband  had  no  pistol;  never  had  any  pis 
tol,  "  put  in  Mrs.  Zabriskie,  with  vehement  asser 
tion.  "  If  I  had  seen  him  with  such  a  weapon ' ' 


278  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

"I  threw  it  away.  When  I  left  the  house,  I  cast 
it  as  far  from  me  as  possible,  for  I  was  frightened 
at  what  I  had  done,  horribly  frightened. " 

"No  pistol  was  ever  found, "  I  answered  with  a 
smile,  forgetting  for  the  moment  that  he  could  not 
see.  "If  such  an  instrument  had  been  found  in 
the  street  after  a  murder  of  such  consequence,  it 
certainly  would  have  been  brought  to  the  police. " 

"You  forget  that  a  good  pistol  is  valuable  prop 
erty,"  he  went  on  stolidly.  '  *  Someone  came  along 
before  the  general  alarm  was  given;  and  seeing 
such  a  treasure  lying  on  the  sidewalk,  picked  it  up 
and  carried  it  off.  Not  being  an  honest  man,  he 
preferred  to  keep  it  to  drawing  the  attention  of 
the  police  upon  himself. " 

"Hum,  perhaps,"  said  I;  "but  where  did  you 
get  it.  Surely  you  can  tell  where  you  procured 
such  a  weapon,  if,  as  your  wife  intimates,  you  did 
not  own  one. " 

"I  bought  it  that  selfsame  night  of  a  friend;  a 
friend  whom  I  will  not  name,  since  he  resides  no 
longer  in  this  country.  I —  He  paused ;  intense 
passion  was  in  his  face ;  he  turned  towards  his  wife, 
and  a  low  cry  escaped  him,  which  made  her  look 
up  in  fear. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  go  into  any  particulars, "  said 
he.  "God  forsook  me  and  I  committed  a  horrible 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      279 

crime.  When  I  am  punished,  perhaps  peace  will 
return  to  me  and  happiness  to  her.  I  would  not 
wish  her  to  suffer  too  long  or  too  bitterly  for  my 
sin. " 

" Constant!"  What  love  was  in  the  cry!  It 
seemed  to  move  him  and  turn  his  thoughts  for  a 
moment  into  a  different  channel. 

"Poor  child!"  he  murmured,  stretching  out  his 
hands  by  an  irresistible  impulse  towards  her. 
But  the  change  was  but  momentary,  and  he  was 
soon  again  the  stern  and  determined  self -accuser. 
"Are  you  going  to  take  me  before  a  magistrate?" 
he  asked.  "If  so,  I  have  a  few  duties  to  perform 
which  you  are  welcome  to  witness. " 

This  was  too  much ;  I  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
for  me  to  disabuse  his  mind  of  the  impression  he 
had  unwittingly  formed  of  me.  I  therefore  said 
as  considerately  as  I  could : 

"You  mistake  my  position,  Dr.  Zabriskie. 
Though  a  detective  of  some  experience,  I  have  no 
connection  with  the  police  and  no  right  to  intrude 
myself  in  a  matter  of  such  tragic  importance.  If, 
however,  you  are  as  anxious  as  you  say  to  subject 
yourself  to  police  examination,  I  will  mention  the 
same  to  the  proper  authorities,  and  leave  them  to 
take  such  action  as  they  think  best. " 

"That  will  be  still  more  satisfactory  to  me," 


280  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

said  he;  "for  though  I  have  many  times  contem 
plated  giving  myself  up,  I  have  still  much  to  do 
before  I  can  leave  my  home  and  practice  without 
injury  to  others.  Good-day;  when  you  want  me 
you  will  find  me  here." 

He  was  gone,  and  the  poor  young  wife  was  left 
crouching  on  the  floor  alone.  Pitying  her  shame 
and  terror,  I  ventured  to  remark  that  it  was  not  an 
uncommon  thing  for  a  man  to  confess  to  a  crime 
he  had  never  committed,  and  assured  her  that  the 
matter  would  be  inquired  into  very  carefully 
before  any  attempt  was  made  upon  his  liberty. 

She  thanked  me,  and  slowly  rising,  tried  to  regain 
her  equanimity;  but  the  manner  as  well  as  the 
matter  of  her  husband's  self-condemnation  was 
too  overwhelming  in  its  nature  for  her  to  recover 
readily  from  her  emotions. 

"I  have  long  dreaded  this,"  she  acknowledged. 
"For  months  I  have  foreseen  that  he  would  make 
some  rash  communication  or  insane  avowal.  If 
I  had  dared,  I  would  have  consulted  some  physi 
cian  about  this  hallucination  of  his ;  but  he  was  so 
sane  on  other  points  that  I  hesitated  to  give  my 
dreadful  secret  to  the  world.  I  kept  hoping  that 
time  and  his  daily  pursuits  would  have  their  effect 
and  restore  him  to  himself.  But  his  illusion  grows, 
and  now  I  fear  that  nothing  will  ever  convince 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      281 

him  that  he  did  not  commit  the  deed  of  which  he 
accuses  himself.  If  he  were  not  blind  I  would  have 
more  hope,  but  the  blind  have  so  much  time  for 
brooding." 

"I  think  he  had  better  be  indulged  in  his  fancies 
for  the  present, "  I  ventured.  "  If  he  is  labouring 
under  an  illusion  it  might  be  dangerous  to  cross 
him." 

"If?"  she  echoed  in  an  indescribable  tone  of 
amazement  and  dread.  "Can  you  for  a  moment 
harbour  the  idea  that  he  has  spoken  the  truth?" 

"Madam,"  I  returned,  with  something  of  the 
cynicism  of  my  calling,  "what  caused  you  to  give 
such  an  unearthly  scream  just  before  this  murder 
was  made  known  to  the  neighbourhood?" 

She  stared,  paled,  and  finally  began  to  tremble, 
not,  as  I  now  believe,  at  the  insinuation  latent  in 
my  words,  but  at  the  doubts  which  my  question 
aroused  in  her  own  breast. 

"Did  I?"  she  asked;  then  with  a  burst  of  can 
dour  which  seemed  inseparable  from  her  nature, 
she  continued:  "Why  do  I  try  to  mislead  you  or 
deceive  myself?  I  did  give  a  shriek  just  before 
the  alarm  was  raised  next  door;  but  it  was  not  from 
any  knowledge  I  had  of  a  crime  having  been  com 
mitted,  but  because  I  unexpectedly  saw  before  me 
my  husband  whom  I  supposed  to  be  on  his  way  to 


282  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

Poughkeepsie.  He  was  looking  very  pale  and 
strange,  and  for  a  moment  I  thought  I  stood  face 
to  face  with  his  ghost.  But  he  soon  explained  his 
appearance  by  saying  that  he  had  fallen  from  the 
train  and  had  only  been  saved  by  a  miracle  from 
being  dismembered ;  and  I  was  just  bemoaning  his 
mishap  and  trying  to  calm  him  and  myself,  when 
that  terrible  shout  was  heard  next  door  of  '  Murder! 
murder!'  Coming  so  soon  after  the  shock  he  had 
himself  experienced,  it  quite  unnerved  him,  and  I 
think  we  can  date  his  mental  disturbance  from  that 
moment.  For  he  began  immediately  to  take  a 
morbid  interest  in  the  affair  next  door,  though  it 
was  weeks,  if  not  months,  before  he  let  a  word  fall 
of  the  nature  of  those  you  have  just  heard.  In 
deed  it  was  not  till  I  repeated  to  him  some  of  the 
expressions  he  was  continually  letting  fall  in  his 
sleep,  that  he  commenced  to  accuse  himself  of 
crime  and  talk  of  retribution. " 

"You  say  that  your  husband  frightened  you  on 
that  night  by  appearing  suddenly  at  the  door  when 
you  thought  him  on  his  way  to  Poughkeepsie. 
Is  Dr.  Zabriskie  in  the  habit  of  thus  going  and 
coming  alone  at  an  hour  so  late  as  this  must  have 
been?" 

"You  forget  that  to  the  blind,  night  is  less  full 
of  perils  than  the  day.  Often  and  often  has  my 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      283 

husband  found  his  way  to  his  patients'  houses 
alone  after  midnight;  but  on  this  especial  evening 
he  had  Leonard  with  him.  Leonard  was  his  chauf 
feur,  and  always  accompanied  him  when  he  went 
any  distance. " 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "all  we  have  to  do  is  to 
summon  Leonard  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say 
concerning  this  affair.  He  will  surely  know 
whether  or  not  his  master  went  into  the  house  next 
door." 

' '  Leonard  has  left  us, ' '  she  said.  ' '  Dr.  Zabriskie 
has  another  chauffeur  now.  Besides  (I  have 
nothing  to  conceal  from  you),  Leonard  was  not 
with  him  when  he  returned  to  the  house  that  even 
ing  or  the  doctor  would  not  have  been  without  his 
portmanteau  till  the  next  day.  Something — I 
have  never  known  what — caused  them  to  separate, 
and  that  is  why  I  have  no  answer  to  give  the 
doctor  when  he  accuses  himself  of  committing  a 
deed  that  night  so  wholly  out  of  keeping  with 
every  other  act  of  his  life. " 

"And  have  you  never  asked  Leonard  why 
they  separated  and  why  he  allowed  his  master  to 
come  home  alone  after  the  shock  he  had  received 
at  the  station?" 

'I  did  not  know  there  was  any  reason  for  my 
doing  so  till  long  after  he  had  left  us. " 


284  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

"And  when  did  he  leave?" 

"That  I  do  not  remember.  A  few  weeks  or 
possibly  a  few  days  after  that  dreadful  night. " 

"And  where  is  he  now?" 

"Ah,  that  I  have  not  the  least  means  of  knowing. 
But,"  she  objected,  in  sudden  distrust,  "what  do 
you  want  of  Leonard?  If  he  did  not  follow  Dr. 
Zabriskie  to  his  own  door,  he  could  tell  us  nothing 
that  would  convince  my  husband  that  he  is  labour 
ing  under  an  illusion. " 

"But  he  might  tell  us  something  which  would 
convince  us  that  Dr.  Zabriskie  was  not  himself 
after  the  accident ;  that  he 

"Hush!"  came  from  her  lips  in  imperious  tones. 
"I  will  not  believe  that  he  shot  Mr.  Hasbrouck 
even  if  you  prove  him  to  have  been  insane  at  the 
time.  How  could  he?  My  husband  is  blind. 
It  would  take  a  man  of  very  keen  sight  to  force 
himself  into  a  house  closed  for  the  night,  and  kill 
a  man  in  the  dark  at  one  shot. " 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  only  a  blind  man  who 
could  do  this,"  cried  a  voice  from  the  doorway. 
"  Those  who  trust  to  eyesight  must  be  able  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  mark  they  aim  at,  and  this  room, 
as  I  have  been  told,  was  without  a  glimmer  of  light. 
But  the  blind  trust  to  sound,  and  as  Mr.  Hasbrouck 
spoke " 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      285 

1 '  Oh ! "  burst  from  the  horrified  wife,  ' '  is  there  no 
one  to  stop  him  when  he  speaks  like  that?" 

in 

As  you  will  see,  this  matter,  so  recklessly  entered 
into,  had  proved  to  be  of  too  serious  a  nature  for 
me  to  pursue  it  farther  without  the  cognizance 
of  the  police.  Having  a  friend  on  the  force  in 
whose  discretion  I  could  rely,  I  took  him  into  my 
confidence  and  asked  for  his  advice.  He  pooh- 
poohed  the  doctor's  statements,  but  said  that  he 
would  bring  the  matter  to  the  attention  of  the 
superintendent  and  let  me  know  the  result.  I 
agreed  to  this,  and  we  parted  with  the  mutual 
understanding  that  mum  was  the  word  till  some 
official  decision  had  been  arrived  at.  I  had  not 
long  to  wait.  At  an  early  day  he  came  in  with  the 
information  that  there  had  been,  as  might  be 
expected,  a  division  of  opinion  among  his  superiors 
as  tct  the  importance  of  Dr.  Zabriskie's  so-called 
confession,  but  in  one  point  they  had  been  unani 
mous  and  that  was  the  desirability  of  his  appearing 
before  them  at  Headquarters  for  a  personal  exam 
ination.  As,  however,  in  the  mind  of  two  out  of 
three  of  them  his  condition  was  attributed  entirely 
to  acute  mania,  it  had  been  thought  best  to  employ 
as  their  emissary  one  in  whom  he  had  already 


286  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

confided  and  submitted  his  case  to, — in  other 
words,  myself.  The  time  was  set  for  the  next 
afternoon  at  the  close  of  his  usual  office  hours. 

He  went  without  reluctance,  his  wife  accom 
panying  him.  In  the  short  time  which  elapsed 
between  their  leaving  home  and  entering  Head 
quarters,  I  embraced  the  opportunity  of  observing 
them,  and  I  found  the  study  equally  exciting  and 
interesting.  His  face  was  calm  but  hopeless,  and 
his  eye,  dark  and  unfathomable,  but  neither  frenzied 
nor  uncertain.  He  spoke  but  once  and  listened 
to  nothing,  though  now  and  then  his  wife  moved  as 
if  to  attract  his  attention,  and  once  even  stole  her 
hand  towards  his,  in  the  tender  hope  that  he  would 
feel  its  approach  and  accept  her  sympathy.  But 
he  was  deaf  as  well  as  blind ;  and  sat  wrapped  up  in 
thoughts  which  she,  I  know,  would  have  given 
worlds  to  penetrate. 

Her  countenance  was  not  without  its  mystery 
also.  She  showed  in  every  lineament  passionate 
concern  and  misery,  and  a  deep  tenderness  from 
which  the  element  of  fear  was  not  absent.  But  she, 
as  well  as  he,  betrayed  that  some  misunderstanding 
deeper  than  any  I  had  previously  suspected  drew 
its  intangible  veil  between  them  and  made  the 
near  proximity  in  which  they  sat  at  once  a  heart- 
piercing  delight  and  an  unspeakable  pain.  What 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      287 

was  the  misunderstanding;  and  what  was  the  char 
acter  of  the  fear  that  modified  her  every  look  of  love 
in  his  direction?  Her  perfect  indifference  to  my 
presence  proved  that  it  was  not  connected  with  the 
position  in  which  he  had  placed  himself  towards  the 
police  by  his  voluntary  confession  of  crime,  nor  could 
I  thus  interpret  the  expression  of  frantic  question 
which  now  and  then  contracted  her  features,  as  she 
raised  her  eyes  towards  his  sightless  orbs,  and  strove 
to  read  in  his  firm  set  lips  the  meaning  of  those 
assertions  she  could  only  ascribe  to  loss  of  reason. 

The  stopping  of  the  carriage  seemed  to  awaken 
both  from  thoughts  that  separated  rather  than 
united  them.  He  turned  his  face  in  her  direction, 
and  she  stretching  forth  her  hand,  prepared  to 
lead  him  from  the  carriage,  without  any  of  that 
display  of  timidity  which  had  previously  been 
evident  in  her  manner. 

As  his  guide  she  seemed  to  fear  nothing;  as  his 
lover,  everything. 

"There  is  another  and  a  deeper  tragedy  under 
lying  the  outward  and  obvious  one,"  was  my 
inward  conclusion,  as  I  followed  them  into  the 
presence  of  the  gentlemen  awaiting  them. 

Dr.  Zabriskie's  quiet  appearance  was  in  itself 
a  shock  to  those  who  had  anticipated  the  feverish 


288  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

unrest  of  a  madman ;  so  was  his  speech,  which  was 
calm,  straightforward,  and  quietly  determined. 

"I  shot  Mr.  Hasbrouck,"  was  his  steady  affirma 
tion,  given  without  any  show  of  frenzy  or  desper 
ation.  "If  you  ask  me  why  I  did  it,  I  cannot 
answer ;  if  you  ask  me  how,  I  am  ready  to  state  all 
that  I  know  concerning  the  matter. " 

"But,  Dr.  Zabriskie, "  interposed  one  of  the 
inspectors,  "the  why  is  the  most  important  thing 
for  us  to  consider  just  now.  If  you  really  desire 
to  convince  us  that  you  committed  this  dreadful 
crime  of  killing  a  totally  inoffensive  man,  you 
should  give  us  some  reason  for  an  act  so  opposed 
to  all  your  instincts  and  general  conduct." 

But  the  doctor  continued  unmoved: 

"I  had  no  reason  for  murdering  Mr.  Hasbrouck. 
A  hundred  questions  can  elicit  no  other  reply; 
you  had  better  keep  to  the  how. " 

A  deep-drawn  breath  from  the  wife  answered  the 
looks  of  the  three  gentlemen  to  whom  this  sugges 
tion  was  offered.  "You  see, "  that  breath  seemed 
to  protest,  "that  he  is  not  in  his  right  mind. " 

I  began  to  waver  in  my  own  opinion,  and  yet 
the  intuition  which  has  served  me  in  cases  seem 
ingly  as  impenetrable  as  this  bade  me  beware  of 
following  the  general  judgment. 

"Ask  him  to  inform  you  how  he  got  into  the 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      289 

house,"  I  whispered  to  Inspector  D ,  who  sat 

nearest  me. 

Immediately  the  inspector  put  the  question 
which  I  had  suggested: 

"  By  what  means  did  you  enter  Mr.  Hasbrouck's 
house  at  so  late  an  hour  as  this  murder  occurred?" 

The  blind  doctor's  head  fell  forward  on  his 
breast,  and  he  hesitated  for  the  first  and  only 
time. 

"You  will  not  believe  me,"  said  he;  "but  the 
door  was  ajar  when  I  came  to  it.  Such  things 
make  crime  easy;  it  is  the  only  excuse  I  have  to 
offer  for  this  dreadful  deed." 

The  front  door  of  a  respectable  citizen's  house 
ajar  at  half-past  eleven  at  night!  It  was  a  state 
ment  that  fixed  in  all  minds  the  conviction  of  the 
speaker's  irresponsibility.  Mrs.  Zabriskie's  brow 
cleared,  and  her  beauty  became  for  a  moment 
dazzling  as  she  held  out  her  hands  in  irrepressible 
relief  towards  those  who  were  interrogating  her 
husband.  I  alone  kept  my  impassibility.  A 
possible  explanation  of  this  crime  had  flashed  like 
lightning  across  my  mind;  an  explanation  from 
which  I  inwardly  recoiled,  even  while  I  felt  forced 
to  consider  it. 

"Dr.  Zabriskie, "  remarked  the  inspector  for 
merly  mentioned  as  friendly  to  him,  "such  old  ser- 
19 


290  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

vants  as  those  kept  by  Mr.  Hasbrouck  do  not  leave 
the  front  door  ajar  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night." 

"Yet  ajar  it  was,"  repeated  the  blind  doctor, 
with  quiet  emphasis;  "and  finding  it  so,  I  went  in. 
When  I  came  out  again,  I  closed  it.  Do  you  wish 
me  to  swear  to  what  I  say?  If  so,  I  am  ready. " 

What  reply  could  they  give?  To  see  this  splen 
did-looking  man,  hallowed  by  an  affliction  so  great 
that  in  itself  it  called  forth  the  compassion  of  the 
most  indifferent,  accusing  himself  of  a  cold-blooded 
crime,  in  tones  which  sounded  dispassionate  be 
cause  of  the  will  forcing  their  utterance,  was  too 
painful  in  itself  for  any  one  to  indulge  in  unneces 
sary  words.  Compassion  took  the  place  of  curios 
ity,  and  each  and  all  of  us  turned  involuntary 
looks  of  pity  upon  the  young  wife  pressing  so 
eagerly  to  his  side. 

"For  a  blind  man,"  ventured  one,  "the  assault 
was  both  deft  and  certain.  Are  you  accustomed 
to  Mr.  Hasbrouck's  house,  that  you  found  your 
way  with  so  little  difficulty  to  his  bedroom?" 

"I  am  accustomed—  '  he  began. 

But  here  his  wife  broke  in  with  irrepressible 
passion : 

"He  is  not  accustomed  to  that  house.  He  has 
never  been  beyond  the  first  floor.  Why,  why  do 
you  question  him?  Do  you  not 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      291 

His  hand  was  on  her  lips. 

11  Hush ! "  he  commanded.  "  You  know  my  skill 
in  moving  about  a  house ;  how  I  sometimes  deceive 
those  who  do  not  know  me  into  believing  that  I 
can  see,  by  the  readiness  with  which  I  avoid 
obstacles  and  find  my  way  even  in  strange  and 
untried  scenes.  Do  not  try  to  make  them  think 
I  am  not  in  my  right  mind,  or  you  will  drive  me 
into  the  very  condition  you  attribute  to  me." 

His  face,  rigid,  cold,  and  set,  looked  like  that  of  a 
mask.  Hers,  drawn  with  horror  and  filled  with 
question  that  was  fast  taking  the  form  of  doubt, 
bespoke  an  awful  tragedy  from  which  more  than 
one  of  us  recoiled. 

"Can  you  shoot  a  man  dead  without  seeing 
him?"  asked  the  Superintendent,  with  painful 
effort. 

"  Give  me  a  pistol  and  I  will  show  you, "  was  the 
quick  reply. 

A  low  cry  came  from  the  wife.  In  a  drawer  near 
to  every  one  of  us  there  lay  a  pistol,  but  no  one 
moved  to  take  it  out.  There  was  a  look  in  the 
doctor's  eye  which  made  us  fear  to  trust  him  with  a 
pistol  just  then. 

"We  will  accept  your  assurance  that  you  possess 
a  skill  beyond  that  of  most  men,"  returned  the 
Superintendent.  And  beckoning  me  forward,  he 


292  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

whispered:  "This  is  a  case  for  the  doctors  and  not 
for  the  police.  Remove  him  quietly,  and  notify 
Dr.  Southyard  of  what  I  say. " 

But  Dr.  Zabriskie,  who  seemed  to  have  an  almost 
supernatural  acuteness  of  hearing,  gave  a  violent 
start  at  this,  and  spoke  up  for  the  first  time  with 
real  passion  in  his  voice: 

"No,  no,  I  pray  you.  I  can  bear  anything  but 
that.  Remember,  gentlemen,  that  I  am  blind; 
that  I  cannot  see  who  is  about  me;  that  my  life 
would  be  a  torture  if  I  felt  myself  surrounded  by 
spies  watching  to  catch  some  evidence  of  madness 
in  me.  Rather  conviction  at  once,  death,  dis 
honour,  and  obloquy.  These  I  have  incurred. 
These  I  have  brought  upon  myself  by  crime,  but 
not  this  worse  fate — oh!  not  this  worse  fate." 

His  passion  was  so  intense  and  yet  so  confined 
within  the  bounds  of  decorum,  that  we  felt  strange 
ly  impressed  by  it.  Only  the  wife  stood  transfixed, 
with  the  dread  growing  in  her  heart,  till  her  white, 
waxen  visage  seemed  even  more  terrible  to  con 
template  than  his  passion-distorted  one. 

"It  is  not  strange  that  my  wife  thinks  me  de 
mented,  "  the  doctor  continued,  as  if  afraid  of  the 
silence  that  answered  him.  "But  it  is  your  busi 
ness  to  discriminate,  and  you  should  know  a  sane 
man  when  you  see  him." 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      293 

Inspector  D no  longer  hesitated. 

''Very  well,"  said  he,  "give  me  the  least  proof 
that  your  assertions  are  true,  and  we  will  lay  your 
case  before  the  prosecuting  attorney. " 

"  Proof?     Is  not  a  man's  word " 

"No  man's  confession  is  worth  much  without 
some  evidence  to  support  it.  In  your  case  there 
is  none.  You  cannot  even  produce  the  pistol 
with  which  you  assert  yourself  to  have  committed 
the  deed." 

"True,  true.  I  was  frightened  by  what  I  had 
done,  and  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  led  me 
to  rid  myself  of  the  weapon  in  any  way  I  could. 
But  someone  found  this  pistol;  someone  picked  it 
up  from  the  sidewalk  of  Lafayette  Place  on  that 
fatal  night.  Advertise  for  it.  Offer  a  reward.  I 
will  give  you  the  money. "  Suddenly  he  appeared 
to  realize  how  all  this  sounded.  "Alas!"  cried  he, 
"I  know  the  story  seems  improbable;  but  it  is  not 
the  probable  things  that  happen  in  this  life,  as 
you  should  know,  who  every  day  dig  deep  into 
the  heart  of  human  affairs." 

Were  these  the  ravings  of  insanity?  I  began  to 
understand  the  wife's  terror. 

"I  bought  the  pistol,"  he  went  on,  "of — alas! 
I  cannot  tell  you  his  name.  Everything  is  against 
me.  I  cannot  adduce  one  proof;  yet  even  she  is 


294  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

beginning  to  fear  that  my  story  is  true.  I  know 
it  by  her  silence,  a  silence  that  yawns  between  us 
like  a  deep  and  unfathomable  gulf. " 

But  at  these  words  her  voice  rang  out  with 
passionate  vehemence. 

"No,  no,  it  is  false!  I  will  never  believe  that 
your  hands  have  been  plunged  in  blood.  You  are 
my  own  pure-hearted  Constant,  cold,  perhaps,  and 
stern,  but  with  no  guilt  upon  your  conscience  save 
in  your  own  wild  imagination." 

"Zulma,  you  are  no  friend  to  me,"  he  declared, 
pushing  her  gently  aside.  "  Believe  me  innocent, 
but  say  nothing  to  lead  these  others  to  doubt  my 
word." 

And  she  said  no  more,  but  her  looks  spoke 
volumes. 

The  result  was  that  he  was  not  detained,  though 
he  prayed  for  instant  commitment.  He  seemed  to 
dread  his  own  home,  and  the  surveillance  to  which 
he  instinctively  knew  he  would  henceforth  be 
subjected.  To  see  him  shrink  from  his  wife's 
hand  as  she  strove  to  lead  him  from  the  room  was 
sufficiently  painful;  but  the  feeling  thus  aroused 
was  nothing  to  that  with  which  we  observed  the 
keen  and  agonized  expectancy  of  his  look  as  he 
turned  and  listened  for  the  steps  of  the  officer  who 
followed  him. 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      295 

"From  this  time  on  I  shall  never  know  whether 
or  not  I  am  alone/'  was  his  final  observation  as 
he  left  the  building. 

Here  is  where  the  matter  rests  and  here,  Miss 
Strange,  is  where  you  come  in.  The  police  were 
for  sending  an  expert  alienist  into  the  house;  but 
agreeing  with  me,  and,  in  fact,  with  the  doctor 
himself,  that  if  he  were  not  already  out  of  his  mind, 
this  would  certainly  make  them  so,  they,  at  my 
earnest  intercession,  have  left  the  next  move  to 
me. 

That  move  as  you  must  by  this  time  understand 
involves  you.  You  have  advantages  for  making 
Mrs.  Zabriskie's  acquaintance  of  which  I  beg  you 
to  avail  yourself.  As  friend  or  patient,  you  must 
win  your  way  into  that  home?  You  must  sound 
to  its  depths  one  or  both  of  these  two  wretched 
hearts.  Not  so  much  now  for  any  possible  reward 
which  may  follow  the  elucidation  of  this  mystery 
which  has  come  so  near  being  shelved,  but  for 
pity's  sake  and  the  possible  settlement  of  a  ques 
tion  which  is  fast  driving  a  lovely  member  of  your 
sex  distracted. 

May  I  rely  on  you?     If  so 

Various  instructions  followed,  over  which  Violet 
mused  with  a  deprecatory  shaking  of  her  head 


296  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

till  the  little  clock  struck  two.  Why  should  she, 
already  in  a  state  of  secret  despondency,  intrude 
herself  into  an  affair  at  once  so  painful  and  so 
hopeless? 

IV 

But  by  morning  her  mood  changed.  The  pathos 
of  the  situation  had  seized  upon  her  in  her  dreams, 
and  before  the  day  was  over,  she  was  to  be  seen, 
as  a  prospective  patient,  in  Dr.  Zabriskie's  office. 
She  had  a  slight  complaint  as  her  excuse,  and  she 
made  the  most  of  it.  That  is,  at  first,  but  as  the 
personality  of  this  extraordinary  man  began  to 
make  its  usual  impression,  she  found  herself  for 
getting  her  own  condition  in  the  intensity  of 
interest  she  felt  in  his.  Indeed,  she  had  to  pull 
herself  together  more  than  once  lest  he  should 
suspect  the  double  nature  of  her  errand,  and  she 
actually  caught  herself  at  times  rejoicing  in  his 
affliction  since  it  left  her  with  only  her  voice  to 
think  of,  in  her  hated  but  necessary  task  of 
deception. 

That  she  succeeded  in  this  effort,  even  with  one 
of  his  nice  ear,  was  evident  from  the  interested  way 
in  which  he  dilated  upon  her  malady,  and  the 
minute  instructions  he  was  careful  to  give  her 
— the  physician  being  always  uppermost  in  his 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      297 

strange  dual  nature,  when  he  was  in  his  office  or 
at  the  bedside  of  the  sick ; — and  had  she  not  been 
a  deep  reader  of  the  human  soul  she  would  have 
left  his  presence  in  simple  wonder  at  his  skill  and 
entire  absorption  in  an  exacting  profession. 

But  as  it  was,  she  carried  with  her  an  image  of 
subdued  suffering,  which  drove  her,  from  that 
moment  on,  to  ask  herself  what  she  could  do  to 
aid  him  in  his  fight  against  his  own  illusion;  for 
to  associate  such  a  man  with  a  senseless  and  cruel 
murder  was  preposterous. 

What  this  wish,  helped  by  no  common  deter 
mination,  led  her  into,  it  was  not  in  her  mind  to 
conceive.  She  was  making  her  one  great  mistake, 
but  as  yet  she  was  in  happy  ignorance  of  it,  and 
pursued  the  course  laid  out  for  her  without  a  doubt 
of  the  ultimate  result. 

Having  seen  and  made  up  her  mind  about  the 
husband,  she  next  sought  to  see  and  gauge  the 
wife.  That  she  succeeded  in  doing  this  by  means 
of  one  of  her  sly  little  tricks  is  not  to  the  point ;  but 
what  followed  in  natural  consequence  is  very  much 
so.  A  mutual  interest  sprang  up  between  them 
which  led  very  speedily  to  actual  friendship. 
Mrs.  Zabriskie's  hungry  heart  opened  to  the  sym 
pathetic  little  being  who  clung  to  her  in  such 
evident  admiration;  while  Violet,  brought  face 


298  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

to  face  with  a  real  woman,  succumbed  to  feelings 
which  made  it  no  imposition  on  her  part  to  spend 
much  of  her  leisure  in  Zulma  Zabriskie's  company. 
The  result  were  the  following  naive  reports 
which  drifted  into  her  employer's  office  from  day 
to  day,  as  this  intimacy  deepened. 

The  doctor  is  settling  into  a  deep  melancholy, 
from  which  he  tries  to  rise  at  times,  but  with  only 
indifferent  success.  Yesterday  he  rode  around  to 
all  his  patients  for  the  purpose  of  withdrawing  his 
services  on  the  plea  of  illness.  But  he  still  keeps 
his  office  open,  and  today  I  had  the  opportunity 
of  witnessing  his  reception  and  treatment  of  the 
many  sufferers  who  came  to  him  for  aid.  I  think 
he  was  conscious  of  my  presence,  though  an  at 
tempt  had  been  made  to  conceal  it.  For  the 
listening  look  never  left  his  face  from  the  moment 
he  entered  the  room,  and  once  he  rose  and  passed 
quickly  from  wall  to  wall,  groping  with  out 
stretched  hands  into  every  nook  and  corner,  and 
barely  escaping  contact  with  the  curtain  behind 
which  I  was  hidden.  But  if  he  suspected  my 
presence,  he  showed  no  displeasure  at  it,  wishing 
perhaps  for  a  witness  to  his  skill  in  the  treatment 
of  disease. 

And  truly  I  never  beheld  a  finer  manifestation 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      299 

of  practical  insight  in  cases  of  a  more  or  less 
baffling  nature.  He  is  certainly  a  most  wonderful 
physician,  and  I  feel  bound  to  record  that  his 
mind  is  as  clear  for  business  as  if  no  shadow  had 
fallen  upon  it. 

Dr.  Zabriskie  loves  his  wife,  but  in  a  way  tor 
turing  to  himself  and  to  her.  If  she  is  gone  from 
the  house  he  is  wretched,  and  yet  when  she  returns 
he  often  forbears  to  speak  to  her,  or  if  he  does  speak 
it  is  with  a  constraint  that  hurts  her  more  than  his 
silence.  I  was  present  when  she  came  in  today. 
Her  step,  which  had  been  eager  on  the  stairway, 
flagged  as  she  approached  the  room,  and  he  natu 
rally  noted  the  change  and  gave  his  own  interpre 
tation  to  it.  His  face,  which  had  been  very  pale, 
flushed  suddenly,  and  a  nervous  trembling  seized 
him  which  he  sought  in  vain  to  hide.  But  by  the 
time  her  tall  and  beautiful  figure  stood  in  the  door 
way,  he  was  his  usual  self  again  in  all  but  the 
expression  of  his  eyes,  which  stared  straight  before 
him  in  an  agony  of  longing  only  to  be  observed 
in  those  who  have  once  seen. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Zulma?"  he  asked,  as 
contrary  to  his  wont,  he  moved  to  meet  her. 

"To  my  mother's,  to  Arnold  &  Constable's, 
and  to  the  hospital,  as  you  requested,"  was  her 


300  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

quick  answer,  made  without  faltering  or  embar 
rassment. 

He  stepped  still  nearer  and  took  her  hand,  and 
as  he  did  so  my  eye  fell  on  his  and  I  noted  that  his 
finger  lay  over  her  pulse  in  seeming  unconscious 
ness. 

"Nowhere  else?"  he  queried. 

She  smiled  the  saddest  kind  of  smile  and  shook 
her  head;  then,  remembering  that  he  could  not  see 
this  movement,  she  cried  in  a  wistful  tone: 

" Nowhere  else,  Constant;  I  was  too  anxious  to 
get  back." 

I  expected  him  to  drop  her  hand  at  this,  but  he 
did  not ;  and  his  finger  still  rested  on  her  pulse. 

"And  whom  did  you  see  while  you  were  gone?" 
he  continued. 

She  told  him,  naming  over  several  names. 

"You  must  have  enjoyed  yourself, "  was  his  cold 
comment,  as  he  let  go  her  hand  and  turned  away. 
But  his  manner  showed  relief,  and  I  could  not  but 
sympathize  with  the  pitiable  situation  of  a  man 
who  found  himself  forced  into  means  like  this  for 
probing  the  heart  of  his  young  wife. 

Yet  when  I  turned  towards  her,  I  realized  that 
her  position  was  but  little  happier  than  his. 
Tears  are  no  strangers  to  her  eyes,  but  those  which 
welled  up  at  this  moment  seemed  to  possess  a 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      301 

bitterness  that  promised  but  little  peace  for  her 
future.  Yet  she  quickly  dried  them  and  busied 
herself  with  ministrations  for  his  comfort. 

If  I  am  any  judge  of  woman,  Zulma  Zabriskie 
is  superior  to  most  of  her  sex.  That  her  husband 
mistrusts  her  is  evident,  but  whether  this  is  the 
result  of  the  stand  she  has  taken  in  his  regard,  or 
only  a  manifestation  of  dementia,  I  have  as  yet 
been  unable  to  determine.  I  dread  to  leave  them 
alone  together,  and  yet  when  I  presume  to  suggest 
that  she  should  be  on  her  guard  in  her  interviews 
with  him,  she  smiles  very  placidly  and  tells  me 
that  nothing  would  give  her  greater  joy  than  to 
see  him  lift  his  hand  against  her,  for  that  would 
argue  that  he  is  not  accountable  for  his  deeds  or 
assertions. 

Yet  it  would  be  a  grief  to  see  her  injured  by  this 
passionate  and  unhappy  man. 

You  have  said  that  you  wanted  all  the  details 
I  could  give;  so  I  feel  bound  to  say  that  Dr. 
Zabriskie  tries  to  be  considerate  of  his  wife,  though 
he  often  fails  in  the  attempt.  When  she  offers 
herself  as  his  guide,  or  assists  him  with  his  mail, 
or  performs  any  of  the  many  acts  of  kindness  by 
which  she  continually  manifests  her  sense  of  his 


302  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

affliction,  he  thanks  her  with  courtesy  and  often 
with  kindness,  yet  I  know  she  would  willingly 
exchange  all  his  set  phrases  for  one  fond  embrace 
or  impulsive  smile  of  affection.  It  would  be  too 
much  to  say  that  he  is  not  in  the  full  possession  of 
his  faculties,  and  yet  upon  what  other  hypothesis 
can  we  account  for  the  inconsistencies  of  his 
conduct? 

I  have  before  me  two  visions  of  mental  suffer 
ing.  At  noon  I  passed  the  office  door,  and  looking 
within,  saw  the  figure  of  Dr.  Zabriskie  seated  in 
his  great  chair,  lost  in  thought  or  deep  in  those 
memories  which  make  an  abyss  in  one's  con 
sciousness.  His  hands,  which  were  clenched, 
rested  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair,  and  in  one  of 
them  I  detected  a  woman's  glove,  which  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  as  one  of  the  pair  worn  by 
his  wife  this  morning.  He  held  it  as  a  tiger  might 
hold  his  prey  or  a  miser  his  gold,  but  his  set  fea 
tures  and  sightless  eyes  betrayed  that  a  conflict 
of  emotions  was  being  waged  within  him,  among 
which  tenderness  had  but  little  share. 

Though  alive  as  he  usually  is  to  every  sound, 
he  was  too  absorbed  at  this  moment  to  notice  my 
presence,  though  I  had  taken  no  pains  to  approach 
quietly.  I  therefore  stood  for  a  full  minute 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      303 

watching  him,  till  an  irresistible  sense  of  the 
shame  at  thus  spying  upon  a  blind  man  in  his 
moments  of  secret  anguish  compelled  me  to  with 
draw.  But  not  before  I  saw  his  features  relax  in 
a  storm  of  passionate  feeling,  as  he  rained  kisses 
after  kisses  on  the  senseless  kid  he  had  so  long  held 
in  his  motionless  grasp.  Yet  when  an  hour  later 
he  entered  the  dining-room  on  his  wife's  arm,  there 
was  nothing  in  his  manner  to  show  that  he  had 
in  any  way  changed  in  his  attitude  towards  her. 

The  other  picture  was  more  tragic  still.  I  was 
seeking  Mrs.  Zabriskie  in  her  own  room,  when  I 
caught  a  fleeting  vision  of  her  tall  form,  with  her 
arms  thrown  up  over  her  head  in  a  paroxysm  of 
feeling  which  made  her  as  oblivious  to  my  pres 
ence  as  her  husband  had  been  several  hours  before. 
Were  the  words  that  escaped  her  lips  "Thank 
God  we  have  no  children!"  or  was  this  exclama 
tion  suggested  to  me  by  the  passion  and  unre 
strained  impulse  of  her  action  ? 

So  much  up  to  date.  Interesting  enough,  or  so 
her  employer  seemed  to  think,  as  he  went  hurriedly 
through  the  whole  story,  one  special  afternoon  in 
his  office,  tapping  each  sheet  as  he  laid  it  aside 
with  his  sagacious  forefinger,  as  though  he  would 
say,  "Enough!  My  theory  still  holds  good; 


304  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

nothing  contradictory  here;  on  the  contrary  com 
plete  and  undisputable  confirmation  of  the  one 
and  only  explanation  of  this  astounding  crime." 

What  was  that  theory;  and  in  what  way  and 
through  whose  efforts  had  he  been  enabled  to 
form  one?  The  following  notes  may  enlighten  us. 
Though  written  in  his  own  hand,  and  undoubt 
edly  a  memorandum  of  his  own  activities,  he  evi 
dently  thinks  it  worth  while  to  reperuse  them  in 
connection  with  those  he  had  just  laid  aside. 

We  can  do  no  better  than  read  them  also. 

We  omit  dates. 

Watched  the  Zabriskie  mansion  for  five  hours 
this  morning,  from  the  second  story  window  of  an 
adjoining  hotel.  Saw  the  doctor  when  he  drove 
away  on  his  round  of  visits,  and  saw  him  when  he 
returned.  A  coloured  man  accompanied  him. 

Today  I  followed  Mrs.  Zabriskie.  She  went 
first  to  a  house  in  Washington  Place  where  I  am 
told  her  mother  lives.  Here  she  stayed  some  time, 
after  which  she  drove  down  to  Canal  Street,  where 
she  did  some  shopping,  and  later  stopped  at  the 
hospital,  into  which  I  took  the  liberty  of  following 
her.  She  seemed  to  know  many  there,  and  passed 
from  cot  to  cot  with  a  smile  in  which  I  alone  dis- 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      305 

cerned  the  sadness  of  a  broken  heart.  When  she 
left,  I  left  also,  without  having  learned  anything 
beyond  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Zabriskie  is  one  who 
does  her  duty  in  sorrow  as  in  joy.  A  rare  and 
trustworthy  woman  I  should  say,  and  yet  her 
husband  does  not  trust  her.  Why? 

I  have  spent  this  day  in  accumulating  details 
in  regard  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Zabriskie's  life  previous 
to  the  death  of  Mr.  Hasbrouck.  I  learned  from 
sources  it  would  be  unwise  to  quote  just  here,  that 
Mrs.  Zabriskie  had  not  lacked  enemies  to  charge 
her  with  coquetry;  that  while  she  had  never 
sacrified  her  dignity  in  public,  more  than  one  per 
son  had  been  heard  to  declare  that  Dr.  Zabriskie 
was  fortunate  in  being  blind,  since  the  sight  of  his 
wife's  beauty  would  have  but  poorly  compensated 
him  for  the  pain  he  would  have  suffered  in  seeing 
how  that  beauty  was  admired. 

That  all  gossip  is  more  or  less  tinged  with  exag 
geration  I  have  no  doubt,  yet  when  a  name  is 
mentioned  in  connection  with  such  stories,  there 
is  usually  some  truth  at  the  bottom  of  them. 
And  a  name  is  mentioned  in  this  case,  though  I  do 
not  think  it  worth  my  while  to  repeat  it  here ;  and 
loth  as  I  am  to  recognize  the  fact,  it  is  a  name  that 
carries  with  it  doubts  that  might  easily  account  for 

30 


306  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

the  husband's  jealousy.  True,  I  have  found  no 
one  who  dares  hint  that  she  still  continues  to 
attract  attention  or  to  bestow  smiles  in  any  direc 
tion  save  where  they  legally  belong.  For  since 
a  certain  memorable  night  which  we  all  know, 
neither  Dr.  Zabriskie  nor  his  wife  have  been  seen 
save  in  their  own  domestic  circle,  and  it  is  not  into 
such  scenes  that  this  serpent,  to  whom  I  have 
just  alluded,  ever  intrudes,  nor  is  it  in  places  of 
sorrow  or  suffering  that  his  smile  shines,  or  his 
fascinations  flourish. 

And  so  one  portion  of  my  theory  is  proved  to  be 
sound.  Dr.  Zabriskie  is  jealous  of  his  wife ;  whether 
with  good  cause  or  bad  I  am  not  prepared  to  de 
cide  ;  since  her  present  attitude,  clouded  as  it  is  by 
the  tragedy  in  which  she  and  her  husband  are  both 
involved,  must  differ  very  much  from  that  which 
she  held  when  her  life  was  unshadowed  by  doubt, 
and  her  admirers  could  be  counted  by  the  score. 

I  have  just  found  out  where  Leonard  is.  As  he 
is  in  service  some  miles  up  the  river,  I  shall  have 
to  be  absent  from  my  post  for  several  hours,  but 
I  consider  the  game  well  worth  the  candle. 

Light  at  last.  I  have  not  only  seen  Leonard, 
but  succeeded  in  making  him  talk.  His  story  is 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      307 

substantially  this:  That  on  the  night  so  often 
mentioned,  he  packed  his  master's  portmanteau  at 
eight  o'clock  and  at  ten  called  a  taxi  and  rode  with 
the  doctor  to  the  Central  station.  He  was  told  to 
buy  tickets  to  Poughkeepsie  where  his  master  had 
been  called  in  consultation,  and  having  done  this, 
hurried  back  to  join  Dr.  Zabriskie  on  the  platform. 
They  had  walked  together  as  far  as  the  cars,  and 
Dr.  Zabriskie  was  just  stepping  on  to  the  train, 
when  a  man  pushed  himself  hurriedly  between 
them  and  whispered  something  into  his  master's 
ear,  which  caused  him  to  fall  back  and  lose  his 
footing.  Dr.  Zabriskie's  body  slid  half  under  the 
car,  but  he  was  withdrawn  before  any  harm  was 
done,  though  the  cars  gave  a  lurch  at  that  moment 
which  must  have  frightened  him  exceedingly, 
for  his  face  was  white  when  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
when  Leonard  offered  to  assist  him  again  on  the 
train,  he  refused  to  go  and  said  he  would  return 
home  and  not  attempt  to  ride  to  Poughkeepsie 
that  night. 

The  gentleman,  whom  Leonard  now  saw  to  be 
Mr.  Stanton,  an  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Zabriskie, 
smiled  very  queerly  at  this,  and  taking  the  doctor's 
arm  led  him  back  to  his  own  auto.  Leonard 
naturally  followed  them,  but  the  doctor,  hearing 
his  steps,  turned  and  bade  him,  in  a  very  peremp- 


308  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

tory  tone,  to  take  the  cars  home,  and  then,  as  if 
on  second  thought,  told  him  to  go  to  Poughkeepsie 
in  his  stead  and  explain  to  the  people  there  that  he 
was  too  shaken  up  by  his  misstep  to  do  his  duty, 
and  that  he  would  be  with  them  next  morning. 
This  seemed  strange  to  Leonard,  but  he  had  no 
reasons  for  disobeying  his  master's  orders,  and  so 
rode  to  Poughkeepsie.  But  the  doctor  did  not 
follow  him  the  next  day;  on  the  contrary  he  tele 
graphed  for  him  to  return,  and  when  he  got  back 
dismissed  him  with  a  month's  wages.  This  ended 
Leonard's  connection  with  the  Zabriskie  family. 

A  simple  story  bearing  out  what  the  wife  has 
already  told  us;  but  it  furnishes  a  link  which  may 
prove  invaluable.  Mr.  Stanton,  whose  first  name 
is  Theodore,  knows  the  real  reason  why  Dr. 
Zabriskie  returned  home  on  the  night  of  the 
seventeenth  of  July,  19 — .  Mr.  Stanton,  conse 
quently,  is  the  man  to  see,  and  this  shall  be  my 
business  tomorrow. 

Checkmate!  Theodore  Stanton  is  not  in  this 
country.  Though  this  points  him  out  as  the  man 
from  whom  Dr.  Zabriskie  bought  the  pistol,  it 
does  not  facilitate  my  work,  which  is  becoming 
more  and  more  difficult. 

Mr.  Stanton 's  whereabouts  are  not  even  known 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      309 

to  his  most  intimate  friends.  He  sailed  from  this 
country  most  unexpectedly  on  the  eighteenth  of 
July  a  year  ago,  which  was  the  day  after  the  murder 
of  Mr.  Hasbrouck.  It  looks  like  a  flight,  especially 
as  he  has  failed  to  maintain  open  communication 
even  with  his  relatives.  Was  he  the  man  who  shot 
Mr.  Hasbrouck  ?  No ;  but  he  was  the  man  who  put 
the  pistol  in  Dr.  Zabriskie's  hand  that  night,  and 
whether  he  did  this  with  purpose  or  not,  was  evi 
dently  so  alarmed  at  the  catastrophe  which  fol 
lowed  that  he  took  the  first  outgoing  steamer  to 
Europe.  So  far,  all  is  clear,  but  there  are  myster 
ies  yet  to  be  solved,  which  will  require  my  utmost 
tact.  What  if  I  should  seek  out  the  gentleman 
with  whose  name  that  of  Mrs.  Zabriskie  has  been 
linked,  and  see  if  I  can  in  any  way  connect  him 
with  Mr.  Stanton  or  the  events  of  that  night. 

Eureka!  I  have  discovered  that  Mr.  Stanton 
cherished  a  mortal  hatred  for  the  gentleman  above 
mentioned.  It  was  a  covert  feeling,  but  no  less 
deadly  on  that  account;  and  while  it  never  led 
him  into  any  extravagances,  it  was  of  force  suffi 
cient  to  account  for  many  a  secret  misfortune 
occurring  to  that  gentleman.  Now  if  I  can  prove 
that  he  is  the  Mephistopheles  who  whispered 
insinuations  into  the  ear  of  our  blind  Faust,  I 


310  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

may  strike  a  fact  that  will  lead  me  out  of  this 
maze. 

But  how  can  I  approach  secrets  so  delicate 
without  compromising  the  woman  I  feel  bound  to 
respect  if  only  for  the  devoted  love  she  manifests 
for  her  unhappy  husband ! 

I  shall  have  to  appeal  to  Joe  Smithers.  This  is 
something  which  I  always  hate  to  do,  but  as  long 
as  he  will  take  money,  and  as  long  as  he  is  fertile 
in  resources  for  obtaining  the  truth  from  people 
I  am  myself  unable  to  reach,  I  must  make  use  of 
his  cupidity  and  his  genius.  He  is  an  honourable 
fellow  in  one  way,  and  never  retails  as  gossip 
what  he  acquires  for  our  use.  How  will  he  pro 
ceed  in  this  case,  and  by  what  tactics  will  he  gain 
the  very  delicate  information  which  we  need? 
I  own  that  I  am  curious  to  see. 

I  shall  really  have  to  put  down  at  length  the 
incidents  of  this  night.  I  always  knew  that  Joe 
Smithers  was  invaluable  not  only  to  myself  but 
to  the  police,  but  I  really  did  not  know  he  possessed 
talents  of  so  high  an  order.  He  wrote  me  this 
morning  that  he  had  succeeded  in  getting  Mr. 

T 's  promise  to  spend  the  evening  with  him, 

and  advised  me  that  if  I  desired  to  be  present  as 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      311 

well,  his  own  servant  would  not  be  at  home,  and 
that  an  opener  of  bottles  would  be  required. 

As  I  was  very  anxious  to  see  Mr.  T with 

my  own  eyes,  I  accepted  this  invitation  to  play 
the  spy,  and  went  at  the  proper  hour  to  Mr. 
Smithers's  rooms.  I  found  them  picturesque  in 
the  extreme.  Piles  of  books  stacked  here  and 
there  to  the  ceiling  made  nooks  and  corners  which 
could  be  quite  shut  off  by  a  couple  of  old  pictures 
set  into  movable  frames  capable  of  swinging  out 
or  in  at  the  whim  or  convenience  of  the  owner. 

As  I  had  use  for  the  dark  shadows  cast  by  these 
pictures,  I  pulled  them  both  out,  and  made  such 
other  arrangements  as  appeared  likely  to  facilitate 
the  purpose  I  had  in  view;  then  I  sat  down  and 
waited  for  the  two  gentlemen  who  were  expected 
to  come  in  together. 

They  arrived  almost  immediately,  whereupon  I 
rose  and  played  my  part  with  all  necessary  dis 
cretion.  While  ridding  Mr.  T of  his  overcoat, 

I  stole  a  look  at  his  face.  It  is  not  a  handsome  one, 
but  it  boasts  of  a  gay,  devil-may-care  expression 
which  doubtless  makes  it  dangerous  to  many 
women,  while  his  manners  are  especially  attrac 
tive,  and  his  voice  the  richest  and  most  persuasive 
that  I  ever  heard.  I  contrasted  him,  almost 
against  my  will,  with  Dr.  Zabriskie,  and  decided 


312  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

that  with  most  women  the  former's  undoubted 
fascinations  of  speech  and  bearing  would  outweigh 
the  latter's  great  beauty  and  mental  endowments; 
but  I  doubted  if  they  would  with  her. 

The  conversation  which  immediately  began  was 
brilliant  but  desultory,  for  Mr.  Smithers,  with  an 
airy  lightness  for  which  he  is  remarkable,  intro 
duced  topic  after  topic,  perhaps  for  the  purpose 
of  showing  off  Mr.  T 's  versatility,  and  per 
haps  for  the  deeper  and  more  sinister  purpose  of 
shaking  the  kaleidoscope  of  talk  so  thoroughly, 
that  the  real  topic  which  we  were  met  to  discusss 
should  not  make  an  undue  impression  on  the  mind 
of  his  guest. 

Meanwhile  one,  two,  three  bottles  passed,  and 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Joe  Smithers 's  eye 

grow  calmer  and  that  of  Mr.  T more  brilliant 

and  more  uncertain.  As  the  last  bottle  was  being 
passed,  Joe  cast  me  a  meaning  glance,  and  the 
real  business  of  the  evening  began. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  relate  the  half  dozen 
failures  which  Joe  made  in  endeavouring  to  elicit 
the  facts  we  were  in  search  of,  without  arousing 
the  suspicion  of  his  visitor.  I  am  only  going  to 
relate  the  successful  attempt.  They  had  been  talk 
ing  now  for  some  hours,  and  I,  who  had  long  before 
been  waved  aside  from  their  immediate  presence, 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      313 

was  hiding  my  curiosity  and  growing  excitement 
behind  one  of  the  pictures,  when  I  suddenly  heard 
Joe  say: 

"He  has  the  most  remarkable  memory  I  ever 
met.  He  can  tell  to  a  day  when  any  notable 
event  occurred. " 

"Pshaw!"  answered  his  companion,  who,  by  the 
way,  was  known  to  pride  himself  upon  his  own 
memory  for  dates,  "I  can  state  where  I  went  and 
what  I  did  on  every  day  in  the  year.  That  may 
not  embrace  what  you  call  'notable  events,' 
but  the  memory  required  is  all  the  more  remarkable 
is  it  not?" 

"Pooh!"  was  his  friend's  provoking  reply,  "you 
are  bluffing,  Ben;  I  will  never  believe  that. " 

Mr.  T—  — ,  who  had  passed  by  this  time  into 
that  stage  of  intoxication  which  makes  persistence 
in  an  assertion  a  duty  as  well  as  a  pleasure,  threw 
back  his  head,  and  as  the  wreaths  of  smoke  rose 
in  airy  spirals  from  his  lips,  reiterated  his  state 
ment,  and  offered  to  submit  to  any  test  of  his 
vaunted  powers  which  the  other  might  dictate. 

"You  keep  a  diary—  "  began  Joe. 

"Which  at  the  present  moment  is  at  home," 
completed  the  other. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  refer  to  it  tomorrow,  if  I  am 
suspicious  of  the  accuracy  of  your  recollections?" 


314  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

' 'Undoubtedly,"  returned  the  other. 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  wager  you  a  cool  fifty 
that  you  cannot  tell  where  you  were  between  the 
hours  of  ten  and  eleven  on  a  certain  night  which  I 
will  name. " 

1 '  Done ! "  cried  the  other,  bringing  out  his  pocket- 
book  and  laying  it  on  the  table  before  him. 

Joe  followed  his  example  and  then  summoned 
me. 

"Write  a  date  down  here,"  he  commanded, 
pushing  a  piece  of  paper  towards  me,  with  a  look 
keen  as  the  flash  of  a  blade.  "Any  date,  man," 
he  added,  as  I  appeared  to  hesitate  in  the  embar 
rassment  I  thought  natural  under  the  circum 
stances.  "Put  down  day,  month,  and  year,  only 
don't  go  too  far  back;  not  farther  than  two  years.  " 

Smiling  with  the  air  of  a  flunkey  admitted  to  the 
sports  of  his  superiors,  I  wrote  a  line  and  laid  it 
before  Mr.  Smithers,  who  at  once  pushed  it  with 
a  careless  gesture  towards  his  companion.  You 
can  of  course  guess  the  date  I  made  use  of:  July 

17,  19 — .  Mr.  T ,  who  had  evidently  looked 

upon  this  matter  as  mere  play,  flushed  scarlet  as 
he  read  these  words,  and  for  one  instant  looked  as 
if  he  had  rather  fly  the  house  than  answer  Joe 
Smithers's  nonchalant  glance  of  inquiry. 

"I  have  given  my  word  and  will  keep  it,"  he 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      315 

said  at  last,  but  with  a  look  in  my  direction  that 
sent  me  reluctantly  back  to  my  retreat.  "I 
don't  suppose  you  want  names,"  he  went  on; 
"that  is,  if  anything  I  have  to  tell  is  of  a  delicate 
nature?" 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  the  other,  "only  facts  and 
places. " 

"I  don't  think  places  are  necessary  either,"  he 
returned.  "I  will  tell  you  what  I  did  and  that 
must  serve  you.  I  did  not  promise  to  give  number 
and  street. " 

"Well,  well,"  Joe  exclaimed;  "earn  your  fifty, 
that  is  all.  Show  that  you  remember  where  you 
were  on  the  night  of" — and  with  an  admirable 
show  of  indifference  he  pretended  to  consult  the 
paper  between  them — "the  seventeenth  of  July, 
two  years  ago,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

"I  was  at  the  club  for  one  thing,"  said  Mr. 

T ;  "then  I  went  to  see  a  lady  friend,  where  I 

stayed  until  eleven.  She  wore  a  blue  muslin — 
What  is  that?" 

I  had  betrayed  myself  by  a  quick  movement 
which  sent  a  glass  tumbler  crashing  to  the  floor. 
Zulma  Zabriskie  had  worn  a  blue  muslin  on  that 
same  night.  You  will  find  it  noted  in  the  report 
given  me  by  the  policeman  who  saw  her  on  their 
balcony. 


316  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

"That  noise?"  It  was  Joe  who  was  speaking. 
"You  don't  know  Reuben  as  well  as  I  do  or  you 
wouldn't  ask.  It  is  his  practice,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  to  accentuate  his  pleasure  in  draining  my 
bottles  by  dropping  a  glass  at  every  third  one." 

Mr.  T went  on. 

"She  was  a  married  woman  and  I  thought  she 
loved  me;  but — and  this  is  the  greatest  proof  I 
can  offer  you  that  I  am  giving  you  a  true  account 
of  that  night — she  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the 
extent  of  my  passion,  and  only  consented  to  see  me 
at  all  because  she  thought,  poor  thing,  that  a  word 
from  her  would  set  me  straight,  and  rid  her  of 
attentions  she  evidently  failed  to  appreciate.  A 
sorry  figure  for  a  fellow  like  me  to  cut;  but  you 
caught  me  on  the  most  detestable  date  in  my 
calendar  and— 

There  he  ceased  being  interesting  and  I  anxious. 
The  secret  of  a  crime  for  which  there  seemed  to  be 
no  reasonable  explanation  is  no  longer  a  mystery 
to  me.  I  have  but  to  warn  Miss  Strange 

He  had  got  thus  far  when  a  sound  in  the  room 
behind  him  led  him  to  look  up.  A  lady  had  en 
tered;  a  lady  heavily  veiled  and  trembling  with 
what  appeared  to  be  an  intense  excitement. 

He  thought  he  knew  the  figure,  but  the  person, 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      317 

whoever  it  was,  stood  so  still  and  remained  so 
silent,  he  hesitated  to  address  her;  which  seeing, 
she  pushed  up  her  veil  and  all  doubt  vanished. 

It  was  Violet  herself.  In  disregard  of  her  usual 
practice  she  had  come  alone  to  the  office.  This 
meant  urgency  of  some  kind.  Had  she  too 
sounded  this  mystery?  No,  or  her  aspect  would 
not  have  worn  this  look  of  triumph.  What  had 
happened  then?  He  made  an  instant  endeavour 
to  find  out. 

"You  have  news,"  he  quietly  remarked. 
"Good  news,  I  should  judge,  by  your  very  cheery 
smile." 

"Yes;  I  think  I  have  found  the  way  of  bringing 
Dr.  Zabriskie  to  himself. " 

Astonished  beyond  measure,  so  little  did  these 
words  harmonize  with  the  impressions  and  conclu 
sions  at  which  he  had  just  arrived,  something  very 
like  doubt  spoke  in  his  voice  as  he  answered  with 
the  simple  exclamation: 

"You  do!" 

"Yes.  He  is  obsessed  by  a  fixed  idea,  and  must 
be  given  an  opportunity  to  test  the  truth  of  that 
idea.  The  shock  of  finding  it  a  false  one  may 
restore  him  to  his  normal  condition.  He  believes 
that  he  shot  Mr.  Hasbrouck  with  no  other  guidance 
than  his  sense  of  hearing.  Now  if  it  can  be  proved 


3i 8  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

that  his  hearing  is  an  insufficient  guide  for  such  an 
act  (as  of  course  it  is)  the  shock  of  the  discovery 
may  clear  his  brain  of  its  cobwebs.  Mrs.  Zabriskie 
thinks  so,  and  the  police ' 

"What's  that?     The  police?" 

"Yes,  Dr.  Zabriskie  would  be  taken  before  them 
again  this  morning.  No  entreaties  on  the  part  of 
his  wife  would  prevail;  he  insisted  upon  his  guilt 
and  asked  her  to  accompany  him  there;  and  the 
poor  woman  found  herself  forced  to  go.  Of  course 
he  encountered  again  the  same  division  of  opinion 
among  the  men  he  talked  with.  Three  out  of  the 
four  judged  him  insane,  which  observing,  he  be 
trayed  great  agitation  and  reiterated  his  former 
wish  to  be  allowed  an  opportunity  to  prove  his 
sanity  by  showing  his  skill  in  shooting.  This  made 
an  impression;  and  a  disposition  was  shown  to 
grant  his  request  then  and  there.  But  Mrs. 
Zabriskie  would  not  listen  to  this.  She  approved 
of  the  experiment  but  begged  that  it  might  be  de 
ferred  till  another  day  and  then  take  place  in 
some  spot  remote  from  the  city.  For  some  reason 
they  heeded  her,  and  she  has  just  telephoned  me 
that  this  attempt  of  his  is  to  take  place  tomorrow 
in  the  New  Jersey  woods.  I  am  sorry  that  this 
should  have  been  put  through  without  you;  and 
— and  when  I  tell  you  that  the  idea  originated  with 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      319 

me — that  from  some  word  I  purposely  let  fall 
one  day,  they  both  conceived  this  plan  of  ending 
the  uncertainty  that  was  devouring  their  lives, 
you  will  understand  my  excitement  and  the  need 
I  have  of  your  support.  Tell  me  that  I  have  done 
well.  Do  not  show  me  such  a  face — you  frighten 
me " 

"I  do  not  wish  to  frighten  you.  I  merely  wish 
to  know  just  who  are  going  on  this  expedition." 

''Some  members  of  the  police,  Dr.  Zabriskie, 
his  wife,  and — and  myself.  She  begged " 

"You  must  not  go. " 

"Why?  The  affair  is  to  be  kept  secret.  The 
doctor  will  shoot,  fail — Oh!"  she  suddenly  broke 
in,  alarmed  by  his  expression,  "you  think  he  will 
not  fail " 

"I  think  that  you  had  better  heed  my  advice 
and  stay  out  of  it.  The  affair  is  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  police,  and  your  place  is  anywhere  but  where 
they  are." 

"But  I  go  as  her  particular  friend.  They  have 
given  her  the  privilege  of  taking  with  her  one  of  her 
own  sex  and  she  has  chosen  me.  I  shall  not  fail 
her.  Father  is  away,  and  if  the  awful  disappoint 
ment  you  suggest  awaits  her,  there  is  all  the  more 
reason  why  she  should  have  some  sympathetic 
support. " 


320  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

This  was  so  true  that  the  fresh  protest  he  was 
about  to  utter  died  on  his  lips.  Instead,  he  simply 
remarked  as  he  bowed  her  out: 

"I  foresee  that  we  shall  not  work  much  longer 
together.  You  are  nearing  the  end  of  your 
endurance." 

He  never  forgot  the  smile  she  threw  back  at  him. 


There  are  some  events  which  impress  the  human 
mind  so  deeply  that  their  memory  mingles  with 
all  after-experiences.  Though  Violet  had  made  it 
a  rule  to  forget  as  soon  as  possible  the  tragic 
episodes  incident  to  the  strange  career  upon  which 
she  had  so  mysteriously  embarked,  there  was 
destined  to  be  one  scene,  if  not  more,  which  she  has 
never  been  able  to  dismiss  at  will. 

This  was  the  sight  which  met  her  eyes  from  the 
bow  of  the  small  boat  in  which  Dr.  Zabriskie  and 
his  wife  were  rowed  over  to  Jersey  on  the  afternoon 
which  saw  the  end  of  this  most  sombre  drama. 

Though  it  was  by  no  means  late  in  the  day,  the 
sun  was  already  sinking,  and  the  bright  red  glare 
which  filled  the  west  and  shone  full  upon  the  faces 
of  the  half  dozen  people  before  her  added  much  to 
the  tragic  nature  of  the  scene,  though  she  was  far 
from  comprehending  its  full  significance. 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      321 

The  doctor  sat  with  his  wife  in  the  stern  and  it 
was  upon  their  faces  Violet's  glance  was  fixed. 
The  glare  shone  luridly  on  his  sightless  eyeballs, 
and  as  she  noticed  his  unwinking  lids,  she  realized 
as  never  before  what  it  was  to  be  blind  in  the 
midst  of  sunshine.  His  wife's  eyes,  on  the  con 
trary,  were  lowered,  but  there  was  a  look  of  hope 
less  misery  in  her  colourless  face  which  made  her 
appearance  infinitely  pathetic,  and  Violet  felt 
confident  that  if  he  could  only  have  seen  her,  he 
would  not  have  maintained  the  cold  and  unre 
sponsive  manner  which  chilled  the  words  on  his 
poor  wife's  lips  and  made  all  advance  on  her  part 
impossible. 

On  the  seat  in  front  of  them  sat  an  inspector 
and  from  some  quarter,  possibly  from  under  the 
inspector's  coat,  there  came  the  monotonous 
ticking  of  the  small  clock,  which  was  to  serve  as 
a  target  for  the  blind  man's  aim. 

This  ticking  was  all  Violet  heard,  though  the 
river  was  alive  with  traffic  and  large  and  small 
boats  were  steaming  by  them  on  every  side. 
And  I  am  sure  it  was  all  that  Mrs.  Zabriskie  heard 
also,  as  with  hand  pressed  to  her  heart,  and  eyes 
fixed  on  the  opposite  shore,  she  waited  for  the 
event  which  was  to  determine  whether  the  man 
she  loved  was  a  criminal  or  only  a  being  afflicted 

21 


322  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

of  God  and  worthy  of  her  unceasing  care  and 
devotion. 

As  the  sun  cast  its  last  scarlet  gleam  over  the 
water,  the  boat  grounded,  and  Violet  was  en 
abled  to  have  one  passing  word  with  Mrs.  Za- 
briskie.  She  hardly  knew  what  she  said  but  the 
look  she  received  in  return  was  like  that  of  a 
frightened  child. 

But  there  was  always  to  be  seen  in  Mrs.  Za- 
briskie's  countenance  this  characteristic  blending 
of  the  severe  and  the  childlike,  and  beyond  an 
added  pang  of  pity  for  this  beautiful  but  afflicted 
woman,  Violet  let  the  moment  pass  without  giving 
it  the  weight  it  perhaps  demanded. 

''The  doctor  and  his  wife  had  a  long  talk  last 
night,  "  was  whispered  in  her  ear  as  she  wound  her 
way  with  the  rest  into  the  heart  of  the  woods. 
With  a  start  she  turned  and  perceived  her  em 
ployer  following  close  behind  her.  He  had  come 
by  another  boat. 

"But  it  did  not  seem  to  heal  whatever  breach 
lies  between  them,"  he  proceeded.  Then  in  a 
quick,  anxious  tone,  he  whispered:  "Whatever 
happens,  do  not  lift  your  veil.  I  thought  I  saw 
a  reporter  skulking  in  the  rear. " 

"I  will  be  careful,"  Violet  assured  him,  and 
could  say  no  more,  as  they  had  already  reached 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      323 

the  ground  which  had  been  selected  for  this  trial 
at  arms,  and  the  various  members  of  the  party 
were  being  placed  in  their  several  positions. 

The  doctor,  to  whom  light  and  darkness  were 
alike,  stood  with  his  face  towards  the  western 
glow,  and  at  his  side  were  grouped  the  inspector 
and  the  two  physicians.  On  the  arm  of  one  of  the 
latter  hung  Dr.  Zabriskie's  overcoat,  which  he 
had  taken  off  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  field. 

Mrs.  Zabriskie  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the 
opening  near  a  tall  stump,  upon  which  it  had  been 
decided  that  the  clock  should  be  placed  when  the 
moment  came  for  the  doctor  to  show  his  skill. 
She  had  been  accorded  the  privilege  of  setting  the 
clock  on  this  stump,  and  Violet  saw  it  shining  in 
her  hand  as  she  paused  for  a  moment  to  glance 
back  at  the  circle  of  gentlemen  who  were  awaiting 
her  movements.  The  hands  of  the  clock  stood  at 
five  minutes  to  five,  though  Violet  scarcely  noted 
it  at  the  time,  for  Mrs.  Zabriskie  was  passing  her 
and  had  stopped  to  say : 

"If  he  is  not  himself,  he  cannot  be  trusted. 
Watch  him  carefully  and  see  that  he  does  no  mis 
chief  to  himself  or  others.  Ask  one  of  the  in 
spectors  to  stand  at  his  right  hand,  and  stop  him  if 
he  does  not  handle  his  pistol  properly. " 

Violet  promised,  and  she  passed  on,  setting  the 


324  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

clock  upon  the  stump  and  immediately  drawing 
back  to  a  suitable  distance  at  the  right,  where  she 
stood,  wrapped  in  her  long  dark  cloak.  Her  face 
shone  ghastly  white,  even  in  its  environment  of 
snow-covered  boughs,  and  noting  this,  Violet 
wished  the  minutes  fewer  between  the  present 
moment  and  the  hour  of  five,  at  which  time  he  was 
to  draw  the  trigger. 

"Dr.  Zabriskie, "  quoth  the  inspector,  "we  have 
endeavoured  to  make  this  trial  a  perfectly  fair  one. 
You  are  to  have  a  shot  at  a  small  clock  which  has 
been  placed  within  a  suitable  distance,  and  which 
you  are  expected  to  hit,  guided  only  by  the  sound 
which  it  will  make  in  striking  the  hour  of  five. 
Are  you  satisfied  with  the  arrangement?'* 

"Perfectly.     Where  is  my  wife?" 

"On  the  other  side  of  the  field  some  ten  paces 
from  the  stump  upon  which  the  clock  is  fixed. " 

He  bowed,  and  his  face  showed  satisfaction. 

"May  I  expect  the  clock  to  strike  soon?" 

"In  less  than  five  minutes, "  was  the  answer. 

"Then  let  me  have  the  pistol;  I  wish  to  become 
acquainted  with  its  size  and  weight." 

We  glanced  at  each  other,  then  across  at  her. 

She  made  a  gesture ;  it  was  one  of  acquiescence. 

Immediately  the  inspector  placed  the  weapon 
in  the  blind  man's  hand.  It  was  at  once  apparent 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      325 

that  he  understood  the  instrument,  and  Violet's 
hopes  which  had  been  strong  up  to  this  moment, 
sank  at  his  air  of  confidence. 

"  Thank  God  I  am  blind  this  hour  and  cannot  see 
her, "  fell  from  his  lips;  then,  before  the  echo  of 
these  words  had  died  away,  he  raised  his  voice  and 
observed  calmly  enough,  considering  that  he  was 
about  to  prove  himself  a  criminal  in  order  to  save 
himself  from  being  thought  a  madman: 

"Let  no  one  move.  I  must  have  my  ears  free 
for  catching  the  first  stroke  of  the  clock. "  And  he 
raised  the  pistol  before  him. 

There  was  a  moment  of  torturing  suspense  and 
deep,  unbroken  silence.  Violet's  eyes  were  on  him, 
so  she  did  not  watch  the  clock,  but  she  was  sud 
denly  moved  by  some  irresistible  impulse  to  note 
how  Mrs.  Zabriskie  was  bearing  herself  at  this 
critical  moment,  and  casting  a  hurried  glance  in 
her  direction  she  perceived  her  tall  figure  swaying 
from  side  to  side,  as  if  under  an  intolerable  strain 
of  feeling.  Her  eyes  were  on  the  clock,  the  hands 
of  which  seemed  to  creep  with  snail-like  pace 
along  the  dial,  when  unexpectedly,  and  a  full 
minute  before  the  minute  hand  had  reached  the 
stroke  of  five,  Violet  caught  a  movement  on  her 
part,  saw  the  flash  of  something  round  and  white 
show  for  an  instant  against  the  darkness  of  her 


326  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

cloak,  and  was  about  to  shriek  warning  to  the 
doctor,  when  the  shrill,  quick  stroke  of  a  clock 
rang  out  on  the  frosty  air,  followed  by  the  ping 
and  flash  of  a  pistol. 

A  sound  of  shattered  glass,  followed  by  a  sup 
pressed  cry,  told  the  bystanders  that  the  bullet  had 
struck  the  mark,  but  before  any  one  could  move, 
or  they  could  rid  their  eyes  of  the  smoke  which  the 
wind  had  blown  into  their  faces,  there  came 
another  sound  which  made  their  hair  stand  on  end 
and  sent  the  blood  back  in  terror  to  their  hearts. 
Another  clock  was  striking,  which  they  now  per 
ceived  was  still  standing  upright  on  the  stump 
where  Mrs.  Zabriskie  had  placed  it. 

Whence  came  the  clock,  then,  which  had  struck 
before  the  time  and  been  shattered  for  its  pains? 
One  quick  look  told  them.  On  the  ground,  ten 
paces  to  the  right,  lay  Zulma  Zabriskie,  a  broken 
clock  at  her  side,  and  in  her  breast  a  bullet  which 
was  fast  sapping  the  life  from  her  sweet  eyes 

They  had  to  tell  him,  there  was  such  pleading  in 
her  looks;  and  never  will  any  of  the  hearers  forget 
the  scream  which  rang  from  his  lips  as  he  realized 
the  truth.  Breaking  from  their  midst,  he  rushed 
forward,  and  fell  at  her  feet  as  if  guided  by  some 
supernatural  instinct. 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      327 

"Zulma,"  he  shrieked,  "what  is  this?  Were 
not  my  hands  dyed  deep  enough  in  blood  that  you 
should  make  me  answerable  for  your  life  also?" 

Her  eyes  were  closed  but  she  opened  them. 
Looking  long  and  steadily  at  his  agonized  face, 
she  faltered  forth : 

"It  is  not  you  who  have  killed  me;  it  is  your 
crime.  Had  you  been  innocent  of  Mr.  Has- 
brouck's  death  your  bullet  would  never  have  found 
my  heart.  Did  you  think  I  could  survive  the 
proof  that  you  had  killed  that  good  man?" 

"I— I  did  it  unwittingly.     I " 

"Hush!"  she  commanded,  with  an  awful  look, 
which  happily  he  could  not  see.  "I  had  another 
motive.  I  wished  to  prove  to  you,  even  at  the  cost 
of  my  life,  that  I  loved  you,  had  always  loved  you, 
and  not 

It  was  now  his  turn  to  silence  her.  His  hand 
crept  to  her  lips,  and  his  despairing  face  turned 
itself  blindly  towards  those  about  them. 

"Go!"  he  cried;  "leave  us!  Let  me  take  a  last 
farewell  of  my  dying  wife,  without  listeners  or 
spectators." 

Consulting  the  eye  of  her  employer  who  stood 
close  beside  her,  and  seeing  no  hope  in  it,  Violet 
fell  slowly  back.  The  others  followed,  and  the 
doctor  was  left  alone  with  his  wife.  From  the 


328  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

distant  position  they  took,  they  saw  her  arms  creep 
round  his  neck,  saw  her  head  fall  confidingly  on  his 
breast,  then  silence  settled  upon  them,  and  upon 
all  nature,  the  gathering  twilight  deepening,  till 
the  last  glow  disappeared  from  the  heavens  above 
and  from  the  circle  of  leafless  trees  which  enclosed 
this  tragedy  from  the  outside  world. 

But  at  last  there  came  a  stir,  and  Dr.  Zabriskie, 
rising  up  before  them  with  the  dead  body  of  his 
wife  held  closely  to  his  breast,  confronted  them 
with  a  countenance  so  rapturous  that  he  looked  like 
a  man  transfigured. 

"I  will  carry  her  to  the  boat, "  said  he.  "Not 
another  hand  shall  touch  her.  She  was  my  true 
wife,  my  true  wife!"  And  he  towered  into  an 
attitude  of  such  dignity  and  passion  that  for  a 
moment  he  took  on  heroic  proportions  and  they 
forgot  that  he  had  just  proved  himself  to  have 
committed  a  cold-blooded  and  ghastly  crime. 

The  stars  were  shining  when  the  party  again 
took  their  seats  in  the  boat;  and  if  the  scene  of 
their  crossing  to  Jersey  was  impressive,  what  shall 
be  said  of  the  return? 

The  doctor,  as  before,  sat  in  the  stern,  an  awe 
some  figure,  upon  which  the  moon  shone  with  a 
white  radiance  that  seemed  to  lift  his  face  out  of 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      329 

the  surrounding  darkness  and  set  it  like  an  image 
of  frozen  horror  before  their  eyes.  Against  his 
breast  he  held  the  form  of  his  dead  wife,  and  now 
and  then  Violet  saw  him  stoop  as  if  he  were 
listening  for  some  token  of  life  from  her  set  lips. 
Then  he  would  lift  himself  again  with  hopelessness 
stamped  upon  his  features,  only  to  lean  forward 
in  renewed  hope  that  was  again  destined  to  dis 
appointment. 

Violet  had  been  so  overcome  by  this  tragic  end 
to  all  her  hopes,  that  her  employer  had  been 
allowed  to  enter  the  boat  with  her.  Seated  at  her 
side  in  the  seat  directly  in  front  of  the  doctor,  he 
watched  with  her  these  simple  tokens  of  a  breaking 
heart,  saying  nothing  till  they  reached  midstream, 
when  true  to  his  instincts  for  all  his  awe  and  com 
passion,  he  suddenly  bent  towards  him  and  said: 

"Dr.  Zabriskie,  the  mystery  of  your  crime  is  no 
longer  a  mystery  to  me.  Listen  and  see  if  I  do 
not  understand  your  temptation,  and  how  you, 
a  conscientious  and  God-fearing  man,  came  to  slay 
your  innocent  neighbour. 

"A  friend  of  yours,  or  so  he  called  himself,  had 
for  a  long  time  filled  your  ears  with  tales  tending 
to  make  you  suspicious  of  your  wife  and  jealous 
of  a  certain  man  whom  I  will  not  name.  You 
knew  that  your  friend  had  a  grudge  against  this 


33°  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

man,  and  so  for  many  months  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  his  insinuations.  But  finally  some  change 
which  you  detected  in  your  wife's  bearing  or 
conversation  roused  your  own  suspicions,  and  you 
began  to  doubt  her  truth  and  to  curse  your  blind 
ness,  which  in  a  measure  rendered  you  helpless. 
The  jealous  fever  grew  and  had  risen  to  a  high  point 
when  one  night — a  memorable  night — this  friend 
met  you  just  as  you  were  leaving  town,  and  with 
cruel  craft  whispered  in  your  ear  that  the  man  you 
hated  was  even  then  with  your  wife  and  that  if 
you  would  return  at  once  to  your  home  you  would 
find  him  in  her  company. 

''The  demon  that  lurks  at  the  heart  of  all  men, 
good  or  bad,  thereupon  took  complete  possession 
of  you,  and  you  answered  this  false  friend  by  say 
ing  that  you  would  not  return  without  a  pistol. 
Whereupon  he  offered  to  take  you  to  his  house  and 
give  you  his.  You  consented,  and  getting  rid  of 
your  servant  by  sending  him  to  Poughkeepsie  with 
your  excuses,  you  entered  your  friend's  automobile. 

"You  say  you  bought  the  pistol,  and  perhaps 
you  did,  but,  however  that  may  be,  you  left  his 
house  with  it  in  your  pocket,  and  declining  com 
panionship,  walked  home,  arriving  at  the  Colon 
nade  a  little  before  midnight. 

"Ordinarily  you  have  no  difficulty  in  recogniz- 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      331 

ing  your  own  doorstep.  But,  being  in  a  heated 
frame  of  mind,  you  walked  faster  than  usual  and 
so  passed  your  own  house  and  stopped  at  that  of 
Mr.  Hasbrouck,  one  door  beyond.  As  the  en 
trances  of  these  houses  are  all  alike,  there  was  but 
one  way  by  which  you  could  have  made  yourself 
sure  that  you  had  reached  your  own  dwelling,  and 
that  was  by  feeling  for  the  doctor's  sign  at  the  side 
of  the  door.  But  you  never  thought  of  that. 
Absorbed  in  dreams  of  vengeance,  your  sole  im 
pulse  was  to  enter  by  the  quickest  means  possible. 
Taking  out  your  night  key,  you  thrust  it  into  the 
lock.  It  fitted,  but  it  took  strength  to  turn  it, 
so  much  strength  that  the  key  was  twisted  and 
bent  by  the  effort.  But  this  incident,  which 
would  have  attracted  your  attention  at  another 
time,  was  lost  upon  you  at  this  moment.  An 
entrance  had  been  effected,  and  you  were  in  too 
excited  a  frame  of  mind  to  notice  at  what  cost,  or 
to  detect  the  small  differences  apparent  in  the 
atmosphere  and  furnishings  of  the  two  houses, 
trifles  which  would  have  arrested  your  attention 
under  other  circumstances,  and  made  you  pause 
before  the  upper  floor  had  been  reached. 

"It  was  while  going  up  the  stairs  that  you  took 
out  your  pistol,  so  that  by  the  time  you  arrived 
at  the  front  room  door  you  held  it  already  drawn 


332  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

and  cocked  in  your  hand.  For,  being  blind,  you 
feared  escape  on  the  part  of  your  victim,  and  so 
waited  for  nothing  but  the  sound  of  a  man's 
voice  before  firing.  When,  therefore,  the  unfor 
tunate  Mr.  Hasbrouck,  roused  by  this  sudden 
intrusion,  advanced  with  an  exclamation  of  as 
tonishment,  you  pulled  the  trigger,  and  killed  him 
on  the  spot.  It  must  have  been  immediately 
upon  his  fall  that  you  recognized  from  some  word 
he  uttered,  or  from  some  contact  you  may  have 
had  with  your  surroundings,  that  you  were  in  the 
wrong  house  and  had  killed  the  wrong  man;  for 
you  cried  out,  in  evident  remorse,  '  God !  what  have 
I  done ! '  and  fled  without  approaching  your  victim. 
"Descending  the  stairs,  you  rushed  from  the 
house,  closing  the  front  door  behind  you  and 
regaining  your  own  without  being  seen.  But 
here  you  found  yourself  baffled  in  your  attempted 
escape,  by  two  things.  First,  by  the  pistol  you 
still  held  in  your  hand,  and  secondly,  by  the  fact 
that  the  key  upon  which  you  depended  for  enter 
ing  your  own  door  was  so  twisted  out  of  shape  that 
you  knew  it  would  be  useless  for  you  to  attempt 
to  use  it.  What  did  you  do  in  this  emergency? 
You  have  already  told  us,  though  the  story  seemed 
so  improbable  at  the  time,  you  found  nobody  to 
believe  it  but  myself.  The  pistol  you  flung  far 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      333 

away  from  you  down  the  pavement,  from  which, 
by  one  of  those  rare  chances  which  sometimes 
happen  in  this  world,  it  was  presently  picked  up  by 
some  late  passer-by  of  more  or  less  doubtful  char 
acter.  The  door  offered  less  of  an  obstacle  than 
you  had  anticipated;  for  when  you  turned  again 
you  found  it,  if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  ajar, 
left  so,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  by  one  who 
had  gone  out  of  it  but  a  few  minutes  before  in  a 
state  which  left  him  but  little  master  of  his  actions. 
It  was  this  fact  which  provided  you  with  an  answer 
when  you  were  asked  how  you  succeeded  in  getting 
into  Mr.  Hasbrouck's  house  after  the  family  had 
retired  for  the  night. 

"Astonished  at  the  coincidence,  but  hailing 
with  gladness  the  deliverance  which  it  offered,  you 
went  in  and  ascended  at  once  into  your  wife's 
presence;  and  it  was  from  her  lips,  and  not  from 
those  of  Mrs.  Hasbrouck,  that  the  cry  arose  which 
startled  the  neighbourhood  and  prepared  men's 
minds  for  the  tragic  words  which  were  shouted  a 
moment  later  from  the  next  house. 

"But  she  who  uttered  the  scream  knew  of  no 
tragedy  save  that  which  was  taking  place  in  her 
own  breast.  She  had  just  repulsed  a  dastardly 
suitor,  and  seeing  you  enter  so  unexpectedly  in  a 
state  of  unaccountable  horror  and  agitation,  was 


334  The  Doctor,  his  Wife,  and  the  Clock 

naturally  stricken  with  dismay,  and  thought  she 
saw  your  ghost,  or  what  was  worse,  a  possible 
avenger;  while  you,  having  failed  to  kill  the  man 
you  sought,  and  having  killed  a  man  you  esteemed, 
let  no  surpi  ise  on  her  part  lure  you  into  any  danger 
ous  self -betrayal.  You  strove  instead  to  soothe  her, 
and  even  attempted  to  explain  the  excitement 
under  which  you  laboured,  by  an  account  of  your 
narrow  escape  at  the  station,  till  the  sudden  alarm 
from  next  door  distracted  her  attention,  and  sent 
both  your  thoughts  and  hers  in  a  different  direc 
tion.  Not  till  conscience  had  fully  awakened  and 
the  horror  of  your  act  had  had  time  to  tell  upon 
your  sensitive  nature,  did  you  breathe  forth  those 
vague  confessions,  which,  not  being  supported  by 
the  only  explanations  which  would  have  made  them 
credible,  led  her,  as  well  as  the  police,  to  consider 
you  affected  in  your  mind.  Your  pride  as  a  man 
and  your  consideration  for  her  as  a  woman  kept 
you  silent,  but  did  not  keep  the  worm  from  preying 
upon  your  heart. 

"Am  I  not  correct  in  my  surmises,  Dr.  Zabris- 
kie,  and  is  not  this  the  true  explanation  of  your 
crime?" 

With  a  strange  look,  he  lifted  up  his  face. 

"Hush!"  said  he;  "you  will  waken  her.  See 
how  peacefully  she  sleeps!  I  should  not  like  to 


Problem  7  for  Violet  Strange      335 

have  her  wakened  now,  she  is  so  tired,  and  I — I 
have  not  watched  over  her  as  I  should. " 

Appalled  at  his  gesture,  his  look,  his  tone,  Violet 
drew  back,  and  for  a  few  minutes  no  sound  was  to 
be  heard  but  the  steady  dip-dip  of  the  oars  and 
the  lap-lap  of  the  waters  against  the  boat.  Then 
there  came  a  quick  uprising,  the  swaying  before 
her  of  something  dark  and  tall  and  threatening, 
and  before  she  could  speak  or  move,  or  even  stretch 
forth  her  hands  to  stay  him,  the  seat  before  her  was 
empty  and  darkness  had  filled  the  place  where  but 
an  instant  previous  he  had  sat,  a  fearsome  figure, 
erect  and  rigid  as  a  sphinx. 

What  little  moonlight  there  was,  only  served  to 
show  a  few  rising  bubbles,  marking  the  spot  where 
the  unfortunate  man  had  sunk  with  his  much- 
loved  burden.  As  the  widening  circles  fled  farther 
and  farther  out,  the  tide  drifted  the  boat  away, 
and  the  spot  was  lost  which  had  seen  the  termina 
tion  of  one  of  earth's  saddest  tragedies. 

END   OF   PROBLEM   VII 


PROBLEM  VIII 

MISSING:  PAGE  THIRTEEN 

i 

"/"\NE  more!  just  one  more  well  paying  affair, 
^-^  and  I  promise  to  stop;  really  and  truly 
to  stop." 

"But,  Puss,  why  one  more?  You  have  earned 
the  amount  you  set  for  yourself, — or  very  nearly, 
— and  though  my  help  is  not  great,  in  three  months 
I  can  add  enough " 

"No,  you  cannot,  Arthur.  You  are  doing  well; 
I  appreciate  it ;  in  fact,  I  am  just  delighted  to  have 
you  work  for  me  in  the  way  you  do,  but  you  can 
not,  in  your  present  position,  make  enough  in 
three  months,  or  in  six,  to  meet  the  situation  as  I 
see  it.  Enough  does  not  satisfy  me.  The  meas 
ure  must  be  full,  heaped  up,  and  running  over. 
Possible  failure  following  promise  must  be  pro 
vided  for.  Never  must  I  feel  myself  called  upon 
to  do  this  kind  of  thing  again.  Besides,  I  have 
never  got  over  the  Zabriskie  tragedy.  It  haunts 
me  continually.  Something  new  may  help  to 

336 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      337 

put  it  out  of  my  head.  I  feel  guilty.  I  was 
responsible ' ' 

"No,  Puss.  I  will  not  have  it  that  you  were 
responsible.  Some  such  end  was  bound  to  follow 
a  complication  like  that.  Sooner  or  later  he 
would  have  been  driven  to  shoot  himself " 

"But  not  her." 

"No,  not  her.  But  do  you  think  she  would 
have  given  those  few  minutes  of  perfect  under 
standing  with  her  blind  husband  for  a  few  years 
more  of  miserable  life?" 

Violet  made  no  answer;  she  was  too  absorbed 
in  her  surprise.  Was  this  Arthur?  Had  a  few 
weeks'  work  and  a  close  connection  with  the  really 
serious  things  of  life  made  this  change  in  him? 
Her  face  beamed  at  the  thought,  which  seeing, 
but  not  understanding  what  underlay  this  evi 
dence  of  joy,  he  bent  and  kissed  her,  saying  with 
some  of  his  old  nonchalance : 

"Forget  it,  Violet;  only  don't  let  any  one  or 
anything  lead  you  to  interest  yourself  in  another 
affair  of  the  kind.  If  you  do,  I  shall  have  to  consult 
a  certain  friend  of  yours  as  to  the  best  way  of  stop 
ping  this  folly.  I  mention  no  names.  Oh !  you  need 
not  look  so  frightened.  Only  behave;  that's  all. " 

"He's  right,"  she  acknowledged  to  herself,  as 
he  sauntered  away;  "altogether  right." 


338  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

Yet  because  she  wanted  the  extra  money- 


The  scene  invited  alarm, — that  is,  for  so  young 
a  girl  as  Violet,  surveying  it  from  an  automobile 
some  time  after  the  stroke  of  midnight.  An  un 
known  house  at  the  end  of  a  heavily  shaded  walk, 
in  the  open  doorway  of  which  could  be  seen  the 
silhouette  of  a  woman's  form  leaning  eagerly 
forward  with  arms  outstretched  in  an  appeal  for 
help !  It  vanished  while  she  looked,  but  the  effect 
remained,  holding  her  to  her  seat  for  one  startled 
moment.  This  seemed  strange,  for  she  had  antici 
pated  adventure.  One  is  not  summoned  from  a 
private  ball  to  ride  a  dozen  miles  into  the  country 
on  an  errand  of  investigation,  without  some  ex 
pectation  of  encountering  the  mysterious  and 
the  tragic.  But  Violet  Strange,  for  all  her  many 
experiences,  was  of  a  most  susceptible  nature,  and 
for  the  instant  in  which  that  door  stood  open, 
with  only  the  memory  of  that  expectant  figure  to 
disturb  the  faintly  lit  vista  of  the  hall  beyond, 
she  felt  that  grip  upon  the  throat  which  comes 
from  an  indefinable  fear  which  no  words  can 
explain  and  no 'plummet  sound. 

But  this  soon  passed.  With  the  setting  of  her 
foot  to  ground,  conditions  changed  and  her  emo 
tions  took  on  a  more  normal  character.  The 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      339 

figure  of  a  man  now  stood  in  the  place  held  by  the 
vanished  woman,  and  it  was  not  only  that  of  one 
she  knew  but  that  of  one  whom  she  trusted — a 
friend  whose  very  presence  gave  her  courage. 
With  this  recognition  came  a  better  understanding 
of  the  situation,  and  it  was  with  a  beaming  eye 
and  unclouded  features  that  she  tripped  up  the 
walk  to  meet  the  expectant  figure  and  outstretched 
hand  of  Roger  Upjohn. 

"You  here!"  she  exclaimed,  amid  smiles  and 
blushes,  as  he  drew  her  into  the  hall. 

He  at  once  launched  forth  into  explanations 
mingled  with  apologies  for  the  presumption  he 
had  shown  in  putting  her  to  this  inconvenience. 
There  was  trouble  in  the  house — great  trouble. 
Something  had  occurred  for  which  an  explanation 
must  be  found  before  morning,  or  the  happiness 
and  honour  of  more  than  one  person  now  under 
this  unhappy  roof  would  be  wrecked.  He  knew 
it  was  late — that  she  had  been  obliged  to  take  a 
long  and  dreary  ride  alone,  but  her  success  with 
the  problem  which  had  once  come  near  wreck 
ing  his  own  life  had  emboldened  him  to  tele 
phone  to  the  office  and—  "But  you  are  in 
ball- dress, "  he  cried  in  amazement.  "Did  you 
think " 

1 '  I  came  from  a  ball.     Word  reached  me  between 


34°  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

the  dances.  I  did  not  go  home.  I  had  been 
bidden  to  hurry." 

He  looked  his  appreciation,  but  when  he  spoke 
it  was  to  say: 

"This  is  the  situation.     Miss  Digby " 

"The  lady  who  is  to  be  married  to-morrow?" 

"Who  hopes  to  be  married  to-morrow. " 

"How,  hopes?" 

"Who  will  be  married  to-morrow,  if  a  certain 
article  lost  in  this  house  to-night  can  be  found 
before  any  of  the  persons  who  have  been  dining 
here  leave  for  their  homes. " 

Violet  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"Then,  Mr.  Cornell,"  she  began 

"Mr.  Cornell  has  our  utmost  confidence," 
Roger  hastened  to  interpose.  "But  the  article 
missing  is  one  which  he  might  reasonably  desire 
to  possess  and  which  he  alone  of  all  present 
had  the  opportunity  of  securing.  You  can  there 
fore  see  why  he,  with  his  pride — the  pride  of  a  man 
not  rich,  engaged  to  marry  a  woman  who  is — should 
declare  that  unless  his  innocence  is  established 
before  daybreak,  the  doors  of  St.  Bartholomew 
will  remain  shut  to-morrow." 

"But  the  article  lost— what  is  it?" 

"Miss  Digby  will  give  you  the  particulars. 
She  is  waiting  to  receive  you, "  he  added  with 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      341 

a  gesture  towards  a  half-open  door  at  their 
right. 

Violet  glanced  that  way,  then  cast  her  looks  up 
and  down  the  hall  in  which  they  stood. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  have  not  told  me  in 
whose  house  I  am?  Not  hers,  I  know.  She 
lives  in  the  city." 

"And  you  are  twelve  miles  from  Harlem.  Miss 
Strange,  you  are  in  the  Van  Broecklyn  mansion, 
famous  enough  you  will  acknowledge.  Have  you 
never  been  here  before?" 

"I  have  been  by  here,  but  I  recognized  nothing 
in  the  dark.  What  an  exciting  place  for  an  in 
vestigation!" 

"And  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn?  Have  you  never 
met  him?" 

"Once,  when  a  child.     He  frightened  me  then. " 

"And  may  frighten  you  now;  though  I  doubt  it. 
Time  has  mellowed  him.  Besides,  I  have  pre 
pared  him  for  what  might  otherwise  occasion  him 
some  astonishment.  Naturally  he  would  not 
look  for  just  the  sort  of  lady  investigator  I  am 
about  to  introduce  to  him. " 

She  smiled.  Violet  Strange  was  a  very  charm 
ing  young  woman,  as  well  as  a  keen  prober  of  odd 
mysteries. 

The  meeting  between  herself  and  Miss  Digby 


342  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

was  a  sympathetic  one.  After  the  first  inevi 
table  shock  which  the  latter  felt  at  sight  of  the 
beauty  and  fashionable  appearance  of  the  myste 
rious  little  being  who  was  to  solve  her  difficulties, 
her  glance,  which,  under  other  circumstances, 
might  have  lingered  unduly  upon  the  piquant 
features  and  exquisite  dressing  of  the  fairy-like 
figure  before  her,  passed  at  once  to  Violet's  eyes 
in  whose  steady  depths  beamed  an  intelligence 
quite  at  odds  with  the  coquettish  dimples  which  so 
often  misled  the  casual  observer  in  his  estimation 
of  a  character  singularly  subtle  and  well-poised. 

As  for  the  impression  she  herself  made  upon 
Violet,  it  was  the  same  she  made  upon  everyone. 
No  one  could  look  long  at  Florence  Digby  and  not 
recognize  the  loftiness  of  her  spirit  and  the  gener 
ous  nature  of  her  impulses.  In  person  she  was  tall, 
and  as  she  leaned  to  take  Violet's  hand,  the  differ 
ence  between  them  brought  out  the  salient  points 
in  each,  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  one 
onlooker. 

Meantime,  for  all  her  interest  in  the  case  in 
hand,  Violet  could  not  help  casting  a  hurried  look 
about  her,  in  gratification  of  the  curiosity  incited 
by  her  entrance  into  a  house  signalized  from  its 
foundation  by  such  a  series  of  tragic  events. 
The  result  was  disappointing.  The  walls  were 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      343 

plain,  the  furniture  simple.  Nothing  suggestive 
in  either,  unless  it  was  the  fact  that  nothing  was 
new,  nothing  modern.  As  it  looked  in  the  days  of 
Burr  and  Hamilton  so  it  looked  to-day,  even  to  the 
rather  startling  detail  of  candles  which  did  duty 
on  every  side  in  place  of  gas. 

As  Violet  recalled  the  reason  for  this,  the  fascin 
ation  of  the  past  seized  upon  her  imagination. 
There  was  no  knowing  where  this  might  have 
carried  her,  had  not  the  feverish  gleam  in  Miss 
Digby's  eyes  warned  her  that  the  present  held  its 
own  excitement.  Instantly,  she  was  all  attention 
and  listening  with  undivided  mind  to  that  lady's 
disclosures. 

They  were  brief  and  to  the  following  effect : 

The  dinner  which  had  brought  some  half-dozen 
people  together  in  this  house  had  been  given  in 
celebration  of  her  impending  marriage.  But  it 
was  also  in  a  way  meant  as  a  compliment  to  one 
of  the  other  guests,  a  Mr.  Spielhagen,  who,  during 
the  week,  had  succeeded  in  demonstrating  to  a  few 
experts  the  value  of  a  discovery  he  had  made  which 
would  transform  a  great  industry. 

In  speaking  of  this  discovery,  Miss  Digby  did 
not  go  into  particulars,  the  whole  matter  being 
far  beyond  her  understanding;  but  in  stating  its 
value  she  openly  acknowledged  that  it  was  in  the 


344  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

line  of  Mr.  Cornell's  own  work,  and  one  which 
involved  calculations  and  a  formula  which,  if 
prematurely  disclosed,  would  invalidate  the  con 
tract  Mr.  Spielhagen  hoped  to  make,  and  thus 
destroy  his  present  hopes. 

Of  this  formula  but  two  copies  existed.  One  was 
locked  up  in  a  safe  deposit  vault  in  Boston,  the 
other  he  had  brought  into  the  house  on  his  person, 
and  it  was  the  latter  which  was  now  missing,  it 
having  been  abstracted  during  the  evening  from  a 
manuscript  of  sixteen  or  more  sheets,  under  cir 
cumstances  which  she  would  now  endeavour  to 
relate. 

Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  their  host,  had  in  his  mel 
ancholy  life  but  one  interest  which  could  be  called 
at  all  absorbing.  This  was  for  explosives.  As  a 
consequence,  much  of  the  talk  at  the  dinner-table 
had  been  on  Mr.  Spielhagen 's  discovery,  and  the 
possible  changes  it  might  introduce  into  this  espe 
cial  industry.  As  these,  worked  out  from  a  formula 
kept  secret  from  the  trade,  could  not  but  affect 
greatly  Mr.  Cornell's  interests,  she  found  herself 
listening  intently,  when  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  with 
an  apology  for  his  interference,  ventured  to  re 
mark  that  if  Mr.  Spielhagen  had  made  a  valuable 
discovery  in  this  line,  so  had  he,  and  one  which  he 
had  substantiated  by  many  experiments.  It  was 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      345 

not  a  marketable  one,  such  as  Mr.  Spielhagen's 
was,  but  in  his  work  upon  the  same,  and  in  the 
tests  which  he  had  been  led  to  make,  he  had  dis 
covered  certain  instances  he  would  gladly  name, 
which  demanded  exceptional  procedure  to  be 
successful.  If  Mr.  Spielhagen's  method  did  not 
allow  for  these  exceptions,  nor  make  suitable 
provision  for  them,  then  Mr.  Spielhagen's  method 
would  fail  more  times  than  it  would  succeed.  Did 
it  so  allow  and  so  provide?  It  would  relieve  him 
greatly  to  learn  that  it  did. 

The  answer  came  quickly.  Yes,  it  did.  But 
later  and  after  some  further  conversation,  Mr. 
Spielhagen's  confidence  seemed  to  wane,  and  before 
they  left  the  dinner-table,  he  openly  declared  his 
intention  of  looking  over  his  manuscript  again  that 
very  night,  in  order  to  be  sure  that  the  formula 
therein  contained  duly  covered  all  the  exceptions 
mentioned  by  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn. 

If  Mr.  Cornell's  countenance  showed  any  change 
at  this  moment,  she  for  one  had  not  noticed  it; 
but  the  bitterness  with  which  he  remarked  upon 
the  other's  good  fortune  in  having  discovered  this 
formula  of  whose  en  tire  success  he  had  no  doubt,  was 
apparent  to  everybody,  and  naturally  gave  point 
to  the  circumstances  which  a  short  time  afterward 
associated  him  with  the  disappearance  of  the  same. 


346  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

The  ladies  (there  were  two  others  besides  herself) 
having  withdrawn  in  a  body  to  the  music-room, 
the  gentlemen  all  proceeded  to  the  library  to 
smoke.  Here,  conversation  loosed  from  the  one 
topic  which  had  hitherto  engrossed  it,  was  pro 
ceeding  briskly,  when  Mr.  Spielhagen,  with  a 
nervous  gesture,  impulsively  looked  about  him 
and  said : 

' '  I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  run  through  my  thesis 
again.  Where  can  I  find  a  quiet  spot?  I  won't 
be  long;  I  read  very  rapidly." 

It  was  for  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  to  answer,  but 
no  word  coming  from  him,  every  eye  turned  his 
way,  only  to  find  him  sunk  in  one  of  those  fits  of 
abstraction  so  well  known  to  his  friends,  and  from 
which  no  one  who  has  this  strange  man's  peace 
of  mind  at  heart  ever  presumes  to  rouse  him. 

What  was  to  be  done?  These  moods  of  their 
singular  host  sometimes  lasted  half  an  hour,  and 
Mr.  Spielhagen  had  not  the  appearance  of  a  man 
of  patience.  Indeed  he  presently  gave  proof  of 
the  great  uneasiness  he  was  labouring  under,  for 
noticing  a  door  standing  ajar  on  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  he  remarked  to  those  around  him : 

"A  den !  and  lighted !  Do  you  see  any  objection 
to  my  shutting  myself  in  there  for  a  few  minutes? " 

No  one  venturing  to  reply,  he  rose,  and  giving 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      347 

a  slight  push  to  the  door,  disclosed  a  small  room 
exquisitely  panelled  and  brightly  lighted,  but 
without  one  article  of  furniture  in  it,  not  even 
a  chair. 

"The  very  place,"  quoth  Mr.  Spielhagen,  and 
lifting  a  light  cane-bottomed  chair  from  the  many 
standing  about,  he  carried  it  inside  and  shut  the 
door  behind  him. 

Several  minutes  passed  during  which  the  man 
who  had  served  at  table  entered  with  a  tray  on 
which  were  several  small  glasses  evidently  con 
taining  some  choice  liqueur.  Finding  his  master 
fixed  in  one  of  his  strange  moods,  he  set  the  tray 
down  and,  pointing  to  one  of  the  glasses,  said: 

"That  is  for  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn.  It  contains 
his  usual  quieting  powder. ' '  And  urging  the  gentle 
men  to  help  themselves,  he  quietly  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Upjohn  lifted  the  glass  nearest  him,  and 
Mr.  Cornell  seemed  about  to  do  the  same  when  he 
suddenly  reached  forward  and  catching  up  one 
farther  off  started  for  the  room  in  which  Mr. 
Spielhagen  had  so  deliberately  secluded  himself. 

Why  he  did  all  this — why,  above  all  things,  he 
should  reach  across  the  tray  for  a  glass  instead  of 
taking  the  one  under  his  hand,  he  can  no  more 
explain  than  why  he  has  followed  many  another 
unhappy  impulse.  Nor  did  he  understand  the 


348  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

nervous  start  given  by  Mr.  Spielhagen  at  his  en 
trance,  or  the  stare  with  which  that  gentleman  took 
the  glass  from  his  hand  and  mechanically  drank 
its  contents,  till  he  saw  how  his  hand  had  stretched 
itself  across  the  sheet  of  paper  he  was  reading,  in 
an  open  attempt  to  hide  the  lines  visible  between 
his  fingers.  Then  indeed  the  intruder  flushed  and 
withdrew  in  great  embarrassment,  fully  conscious 
of  his  indiscretion  but  not  deeply  disturbed  till 
Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  suddenly  arousing  and  glanc 
ing  down  at  the  tray  placed  very  near  his  hand, 
remarked  in  some  surprise :  ' '  Dobbs  seems  to  have 
forgotten  me. "  Then  indeed,  the  unfortunate 
Mr.  Cornell  realized  what  he  had  done.  It  was 
the  glass  intended  for  his  host  which  he  had  caught 
up  and  carried  into  the  other  room — the  glass 
which  he  had  been  told  contained  a  drug.  Of  what 
folly  he  had  been  guilty,  and  how  tame  would  be 
any  effort  at  excuse ! 

Attempting  none,  he  rose  and  with  a  hurried 
glance  at  Mr.  Upjohn  who  flushed  in  sympathy 
at  his  distress,  he  crossed  to  the  door  he  had  so 
lately  closed  upon  Mr.  Spielhagen.  But  feeling 
his  shoulder  touched  as  his  hand  pressed  the  knob, 
he  turned  to  meet  the  eye  of  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn 
fixed  upon  him  with  an  expression  which  utterly 
confounded  him. 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      349 

" Where  are  you  going?"  that  gentleman  asked. 

The  questioning  tone,  the  severe  look,  expres 
sive  at  once  of  displeasure  and  astonishment, 
were  most  disconcerting,  but  Mr.  Cornell  managed 
to  stammer  forth: 

"Mr.  Spielhagen  is  in  here  consulting  his  thesis. 
When  your  man  brought  in  the  cordial,  I  was 
awkward  enough  to  catch  up  your  glass  and  carry 
it  in  to  Mr.  Spielhagen.  He  drank  it  and  I — I 
am  anxious  to  see  if  it  did  him  any  harm. " 

As  he  uttered  the  last  word  he  felt  Mr.  Van 
Broecklyn's  hand  slip  from  his  shoulder,  but  no 
word  accompanied  the  action,  nor  did  his  host 
make  the  least  move  to  follow  him  into  the  room. 

This  was  a  matter  of  great  regret  to  him  later,  as 
it  left  him  for  a  moment  out  of  the  range  of  every 
eye,  during  which  he  says  he  simply  stood  in  a 
state  of  shock  at  seeing  Mr.  Spielhagen  still  sitting 
there,  manuscript  in  hand,  but  with  head  fallen 
forward  and  eyes  closed;  dead,  asleep  or — he 
hardly  knew  what;  the  sight  so  paralysed  him. 

Whether  or  not  this  was  the  exact  truth  and  the 
whole  truth,  Mr.  Cornell  certainly  looked  very 
unlike  himself  as  he  stepped  back  into  Mr.  Van 
Broecklyn's  presence;  and  he  was  only  partially 
reassured  when  that  gentleman  protested  that 
there  was  no  real  harm  in  the  drug,  and  that 


35°  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

Mr.  Spielhagen  would  be  all  right  if  left  to  wake 
naturally  and  without  shock.  However,  as  his 
present  attitude  was  one  of  great  discomfort,  they 
decided  to  carry  him  back  and  lay  him  on  the 
library  lounge.  But  before  doing  this,  Mr. 
Upjohn  drew  from  his  flaccid  grasp,  the  precious 
manuscript,  and  carrying  it  into  the  larger  room 
placed  it  on  a  remote  table,  where  it  remained 
undisturbed  till  Mr.  Spielhagen,  suddenly  coming 
to  himself  at  the  end  of  some  fifteen  minutes,  missed 
the  sheets  from  his  hand,  and  bounding  up,  crossed 
the  room  to  repossess  himself  of  them. 

His  face,  as  he  lifted  them  up  and  rapidly  ran 
through  them  with  ever-accumulating  anxiety, 
told  them  what  they  had  to  expect. 

The  page  containing  the  formula  was  gone! 

Violet  now  saw  her  problem. 
n 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  loss  I  have  men 
tioned;  all  could  see  that  page  13  was  not  there. 
In  vain  a  second  handling  of  every  sheet,  the 
one  so  numbered  was  not  to  be  found.  Page 
14  met  the  eye  on  the  top  of  the  pile,  and  page 
12  finished  it  off  at  the  bottom,  but  no  page  13  in 
between,  or  anywhere  else. 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      351 

Where  had  it  vanished,  and  through  whose 
agency  had  this  misadventure  occurred?  No  one 
could  say,  or,  at  least,  no  one  there  made  any 
attempt  to  do  so,  though  everybody  started  to 
look  for  it. 

But  where  look?  The  adjoining  small  room 
offered  no  facilities  for  hiding  a  cigar-end,  much 
less  a  square  of  shining  white  paper.  Bare  walls, 
a  bare  floor,  and  a  single  chair  for  furniture,  com 
prised  all  that  was  to  be  seen  in  this  direction. 
Nor  could  the  room  in  which  they  then  stood  be 
thought  to  hold  it,  unless  it  was  on  the  person  of 
some  one  of  them.  Could  this  be  the  explanation 
of  the  mystery?  No  man  looked  his  doubts;  but 
Mr.  Cornell,  possibly  divining  the  general  feeling, 
stepped  up  to  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  and  in  a  cool 
voice,  but  with  the  red  burning  hotly  on  either 
cheek,  said,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  everyone  present: 

"I  demand  to  be  searched — at  once  and 
thoroughly. " 

A  moment's  silence,  then  the  common  cry: 

"We  will  all  be  searched." 

"Is  Mr.  Spielhagen  sure  that  the  missing  page 
was  with  the  others  when  he  sat  down  in  the 
adjoining  room  to  read  his  thesis?"  asked  their 
perturbed  host. 

"Very  sure,"  came  the  emphatic  reply.     "In- 


352  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

deed,  I  was  just  going  through  the  formula  itself 
when  I  fell  asleep. " 

"  You  are  ready  to  assert  this?  " 

"I  am  ready  to  swear  it. " 

Mr.  Cornell  repeated  his  request. 

"I  demand  that  you  make  a  thorough  search 
of  my  person.  I  must  be  cleared,  and  instantly, 
of  every  suspicion,"  he  gravely  asserted,  "or  how 
can  I  marry  Miss  Digby  to-morrow. " 

After  that  there  was  no  further  hesitation. 
One  and  all  subjected  themselves  to  the  ordeal 
suggested ;  even  Mr.  Spielhagen.  But  this  effort  was 
as  futile  as  the  rest.  The  lost  page  was  not  found. 

What  were  they  to  think  ?   What  were  they  to  do  ? 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  left  to  do,  and  yet 
some  further  attempt  must  be  made  towards  the 
recovery  of  this  important  formula.  Mr.  Cor 
nell's  marriage  and  Mr.  Spielhagen 's  business 
success  both  depended  upon  its  being  in  the  latter's 
hands  before  six  in  the  morning,  when  he  was 
engaged  to  hand  it  over  to  a  certain  manufacturer 
sailing  for  Europe  on  an  early  steamer. 

Five  hours ! 

Had  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  a  suggestion  to  offer? 
No,  he  was  as  much  at  sea  as  the  rest. 

Simultaneously  look  crossed  look.  Blankness 
was  on  every  face. 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      353 

"Let  us  call  the  ladies,"  suggested  one. 

It  was  done,  and  however  great  the  tension  had 
been  before,  it  was  even  greater  when  Miss  Digby 
stepped  upon  the  scene.  But  she  was  not  a  woman 
to  be  shaken  from  her  poise  even  by  a  crisis  of  this 
importance.  When  the  dilemma  had  been  pre 
sented  to  her  and  the  full  situation  grasped,  she 
looked  first  at  Mr.  Cornell  and  then  at  Mr.  Spiel- 
hagen,  and  quietly  said : 

"There  is  but  one  explanation  possible  of  this 
matter.  Mr.  Spielhagen  will  excuse  me,  but  he  is 
evidently  mistaken  in  thinking  that  he  saw  the  lost 
page  among  the  rest.  The  condition  into  which 
he  was  thrown  by  the  unaccustomed  drug  he  had 
drank,  made  him  liable  to  hallucinations.  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt  he  thought  he  had  been  study 
ing  the  formula  at  the  time  he  dropped  off  to 
sleep.  I  have  every  confidence  in  the  gentleman's 
candour.  But  so  have  I  in  that  of  Mr.  Cornell, " 
she  supplemented,  with  a  smile. 

An  exclamation  from  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  and  a 
subdued  murmur  from  all  but  Mr.  Spielhagen 
testified  to  the  effect  of  this  suggestion,  and  there 
is  no  saying  what  might  have  been  the  result  if 
Mr.  Cornell  had  not  hurriedly  put  in  this  extra 
ordinary  and  most  unexpected  protest : 

"Miss  Digby  has  my  gratitude, "  said  he,  "for  a 

33 


354  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

confidence  which  I  hope  to  prove  to  be  deserved. 
But  I  must  say  this  for  Mr.  Spielhagen.  He  was 
correct  in  stating  that  he  was  engaged  in  looking 
over  his  formula  when  I  stepped  into  his  presence 
with  the  glass  of  cordial.  If  you  were  not  in  a 
position  to  see  the  hurried  way  in  which  his  hand 
instinctively  spread  itself  over  the  page  he  was 
reading,  I  was;  and  if  that  does  not  seem  conclu 
sive  to  you,  then  I  feel  bound  to  state  that  in 
unconsciously  following  this  movement  of  his,  I 
plainly  saw  the  number  written  on  the  top  of  the 
page,  and  that  number  was — 13. " 

A  loud  exclamation,  this  time  from  Spielhagen 
himself,  announced  his  gratitude  and  correspond 
ing  change  of  attitude  toward  the  speaker. 

''Wherever  that  damned  page  has  gone, "  he 
protested,  advancing  towards  Cornell  with  out 
stretched  hand,  "you  have  nothing  to  do  with  its 
disappearance. " 

Instantly  all  constraint  fled,  and  every  counte 
nance  took  on  a  relieved  expression.  But  the 
problem  remained. 

Suddenly  those  very  words  passed  some  one's 
lips,  and  with  their  utterance  Mr.  Upjohn  remem 
bered  how  at  an  extraordinary  crisis  in  his  own  life, 
he  had  been  helped  and  an  equally  difficult  problem 
settled,  by  a  little  lady  secretly  attached  to  a  pri- 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      355 

vate  detective  agency.  If  she  could  only  be  found 
and  hurried  here  before  morning,  all  might  yet 
be  well.  He  would  make  the  effort.  Such  wild 
schemes  sometimes  work.  He  telephoned  to  the 

office  and 

Was  there  anything  else  Miss  Strange  would  like 
to  know? 

Ill 

Miss  Strange,  thus  appealed  to,  asked  where  the 
gentlemen  were  now. 

She  was  told  that  they  were  still  all  together  in 
the  library;  the  ladies  had  been  sent  home. 

"Then  let  us  go  to  them,"  said  Violet,  hiding 
under  a  smile  her  great  fear  that  here  was  an  affair 
which  might  very  easily  spell  for  her  that  dismal 
word,  failure. 

So  great  was  that  fear  that  under  all  ordinary 
circumstances  she  would  have  had  no  thought  for 
anything  else  in  the  short  interim  between  this 
stating  of  the  problem  and  her  speedy  entrance 
among  the  persons  involved.  But  the  circum 
stances  of  this  case  were  so  far  from  ordinary,  or 
rather  let  me  put  it  in  this  way,  the  setting  of  the 
case  was  so  very  extraordinary,  that  she  scarcely 
thought  of  the  problem  before  her,  in  her  great 
interest  in  the  house  through  whose  rambling  halls 


356  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

she  was  being  so  carefully  guided.  So  much  that 
was  tragic  and  heartrending  had  occurred  here. 
The  Van  Broecklyn  name,  the  Van  Broecklyn 
history,  above  all  the  Van  Broecklyn  tradition, 
which  made  the  house  unique  in  the  country's 
annals  (of  which  more  hereafter),  all  made  an 
appeal  to  her  imagination,  and  centred  her 
thoughts  on  what  she  saw  about  her.  There  was 
a  door  which  no  man  ever  opened — had  never 
opened  since  Revolutionary  times — should  she 
see  it?  Should  she  know  it  if  she  did  see  it? 
Then  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  himself!  Just  to  meet 
him,  under  any  conditions  and  in  any  place,  was 
an  event.  But  to  meet  him  here,  under  the 
pall  of  his  own  mystery!  No  wonder  she  had  no 
words  for  her  companions,  or  that  her  thoughts 
clung  to  this  anticipation  in  wonder  and  almost 
fearsome  delight. 

His  story  was  a  well-known  one.  A  bachelor 
and  a  misanthrope,  he  lived  absolutely  alone  save 
for  a  large  entourage  of  servants,  all  men  and 
elderly  ones  at  that.  He  never  visited.  Though 
he  now  and  then,  as  on  this  occasion,  entertained 
certain  persons  under  his  roof,  he  declined  every 
invitation  for  himself,  avoiding  even,  with  equal 
strictness,  all  evening  amusements  of  whatever 
kind,  which  would  detain  him  in  the  city  after 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      357 

ten  at  night.  Perhaps  this  was  to  ensure  no  break 
in  his  rule  of  life  never  to  sleep  out  of  his  own  bed. 
Though  he  was  a  man  well  over  fifty  he  had  not 
spent,  according  to  his  own  statement,  but  two 
nights  out  of  his  own  bed  since  his  return  from 
Europe  in  early  boyhood,  and  those  were  in 
obedience  to  a  judicial  summons  which  took  him 
to  Boston. 

This  was  his  main  eccentricity,  but  he  had  an 
other  which  is  apparent  enough  from  what  has 
already  been  said.  He  avoided  women.  If  thrown 
in  with  them  during  his  short  visits  into  town,  he 
was  invariably  polite  and  at  times  companionable, 
but  he  never  sought  them  out,  nor  had  gossip, 
contrary  to  its  usual  habit,  ever  linked  his  name 
with  one  of  the  sex. 

Yet  he  w^as  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  attrac 
tion.  His  features  were  fine  and  his  figure  impres 
sive.  He  might  have  been  the  cynosure  of  all 
eyes  had  he  chosen  to  enter  crowded  drawing- 
rooms,  or  even  to  frequent  public  assemblages, 
but  having  turned  his  back  upon  everything  of  the 
kind  in  his  youth,  he  had  found  it  impossible  to 
alter  his  habits  with  advancing  years;  nor  was  he 
now  expected  to.  The  position  he  had  taken  was 
respected.  Leonard  Van  Broecklyn  was  no  longer 
criticized. 


358  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

Was  there  any  explanation  for  this  strangely 
self-centred  life.  Those  who  knew  him  best 
seemed  to  think  so.  In  the  first  place  he  had 
sprung  from  an  unfortunate  stock.  Events  of  an 
unusual  and  tragic  nature  had  marked  the  family 
of  both  parents.  Nor  had  his  parents  themselves 
been  exempt  from  this  seeming  fatality.  Antago 
nistic  in  tastes  and  temperament,  they  had  dragged 
on  an  unhappy  existence  in  the  old  home,  till 
both  natures  rebelled,  and  a  separation  ensued 
which  not  only  disunited  their  lives  but  sent  them 
to  opposite  sides  of  the  globe  never  to  return 
again.  At  least,  that  was  the  inference  drawn 
from  the  peculiar  circumstances  attending  the 
event.  On  the  morning  of  one  never-to-be-forgot 
ten  day,  John  Van  Broecklyn,  the  grandfather  of 
the  present  representative  of  the  family,  found  the 
following  note  from  his  son  lying  on  the  library 
table: 

"FATHER: 

"Life  in  this  house,  or  any  house,  with  her  is 
no  longer  endurable.  One  of  us  must  go.  The 
mother  should  not  be  separated  from  her  child. 
Therefore  it  is  I  whom  you  will  never  see  again. 
Forget  me,  but  be  considerate  of  her  and  the  boy. 

"WILLIAM." 

Six  hours  later  another  note  was  found,  this 
time  from  the  wife : 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      359 

"FATHER: 

' '  Tied  to  a  rotting  corpse  what  does  one  do  ?  Lop 
off  one's  arm  if  necessary  to  rid  one  of  the  contact. 
As  all  love  between  your  son  and  myself  is  dead,  I 
can  no  longer  live  within  the  sound  of  his  voice. 
As  this  is  his  home,  he  is  the  one  to  remain  in  it. 
May  our  child  reap  the  benefit  of  his  mother's 
loss  and  his  father's  affection. 

"RHODA." 


Both  were  gone,  and  gone  forever.  Simultaneous 
in  their  departure,  they  preserved  each  his  own 
silence  and  sent  no  word  back.  If  the  one  went 
east  and  the  other  west,  they  may  have  met  on 
the  other  side  of  the  globe,  but  never  again  in  the 
home  which  sheltered  their  boy.  For  him  and  for 
his  grandfather  they  had  sunk  from  sight  in  the 
great  sea  of  humanity,  leaving  them  stranded  on 
an  isolated  and  mournful  shore.  The  grand 
father  steeled  himself  to  the  double  loss,  for  the 
child's  sake;  but  the  boy  of  eleven  succumbed. 
Few  of  the  world's  great  sufferers,  of  whatever  age 
or  condition,  have  mourned  as  this  child  mourned, 
or  shown  the  effects  of  his  grief  so  deeply  or  so 
long.  Not  till  he  had  passed  his  majority  did 
the  line,  carved  in  one  day  in  his  baby  forehead, 
lose  any  of  its  intensity;  and  there  are  those  who 
declare  that  even  later  than  that,  the  midnight 
stillness  of  the  house  was  disturbed  from  time  to 


360  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

time  by  his  muffled  shriek  of  "Mother!  Mother!" 
sending  the  servants  from  the  house,  and  adding 
one  more  horror  to  the  many  which  clung  about 
this  accursed  mansion. 

Of  this  cry  Violet  had  heard,  and  it  was  that  and 
the  door —  But  I  have  already  told  you  about  the 
door  which  she  was  still  looking  for,  when  her  two 
companions  suddenly  halted,  and  she  found  herself 
on  the  threshold  of  the  library,  in  full  view  of  Mr. 
Van  Broecklyn  and  his  two  guests. 

Slight  and  fairy-like  in  figure,  with  an  air  of 
modest  reserve  more  in  keeping  with  her  youth 
and  dainty  dimpling  beauty  than  with  her  errand, 
her  appearance  produced  an  astonishment  which 
none  of  the  gentlemen  were  able  to  disguise.  This 
the  clever  detective,  with  a  genius  for  social  prob 
lems  and  odd  elusive  cases!  This  darling  of  the 
ball-room  in  satin  and  pearls!  Mr.  Spielhagen 
glanced  at  Mr.  Carroll,  and  Mr.  Carroll  at  Mr. 
Spielhagen,  and  both  at  Mr.  Upjohn,  in  very  evi 
dent  distrust.  As  for  Violet,  she  had  eyes  only 
for  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  who  stood  before  her  in  a 
surprise  equal  to  that  of  the  others  but  with  more 
restraint  in  its  expression. 

She  was  not  disappointed  in  him.  She  had 
expected  to  see  a  man,  reserved  almost  to  the 
point  of  austerity.  And  she  found  his  first  look 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      361 

even  more  awe-compelling  than  her  imagination 
had  pictured;  so  much  so  indeed,  that  her  resolu 
tion  faltered,  and  she  took  a  quick  step  backward; 
which  seeing,  he  smiled  and  her  heart  and  hopes 
grew  warm  again.  That  he  could  smile,  and  smile 
with  absolute  sweetness,  was  her  great  comfort 
when  later —  But  I  am  introducing  you  too  hur 
riedly  to  the  catastrophe.  There  is  much  to  be 
told  first. 

I  pass  over  the  preliminaries,  and  come  at  once 
to  the  moment  when  Violet,  having  listened  to  a 
repetition  of  the  full  facts,  stood  with  downcast 
eyes  before  these  gentlemen,  complaining  in  some 
alarm  to  herself: 

"They  expect  me  to  tell  them  now  and  with 
out  further  search  or  parley  just  where  this 
missing  page  is.  I  shall  have  to  balk  that  ex 
pectation  without  losing  their  confidence.  But 
how?" 

Summoning  up  her  courage  and  meeting  each 
inquiring  eye  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  carry 
a  different  message  to  each,  she  remarked  very 
quietly : 

"This  is  not  a  matter  to  guess  at.  I  must  have 
time  and  I  must  look  a  little  deeper  into  the 
facts  just  given  me.  I  presume  that  the  table  I 
see  over  there  is  the  one  upon  which  Mr.  Upjohn 


362  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

laid  the  manuscript  during  Mr.  Spielhagen's 
unconsciousness. " 

All  nodded. 

1 '  Is  it — I  mean  the  table — in  the  same  condition 
it  was  then?  Has  nothing  been  taken  from  it 
except  the  manuscript?" 

"Nothing." 

"Then  the  missing  page  is  not  there,"  she  smiled, 
pointing  to  its  bare  top.  A  pause,  during  which 
she  stood  with  her  gaze  fixed  on  the  floor  before 
her.  She  was  thinking  and  thinking  hard. 

Suddenly  she  came  to  a  decision.  Addressing 
Mr.  Upjohn  she  asked  if  he  were  quite  sure  that 
in  taking  the  manuscript  from  Mr.  Spielhagen's 
hand  he  had  neither  disarranged  nor  dropped 
one  of  its  pages. 

The  answer  was  unequivocal. 

"Then,  "  she  declared,  with  quiet  assurance  and 
a  steady  meeting  with  her  own  of  every  eye,  "as 
the  thirteenth  page  was  not  found  among  the 
others  when  they  were  taken  from  this  table,  nor 
on  the  persons  of  either  Mr.  Carroll  or  Mr.  Spiel- 
hagen,  it  is  still  in  that  inner  room. " 

"Impossible!"  came  from  every  lip,  each  in  a 
different  tone.  ' '  That  room  is  absolutely  empty. '  * 

"May  I  have  a  look  at  its  emptiness?"  she 
asked,  with  a  naive  glance  at  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn. 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      363 

"  There  is  positively  nothing  in  the  room  but 
the  chair  Mr.  Spielhagen  sat  on, "  objected  that 
gentleman  with  a  noticeable  air  of  reluctance. 

"Still,  may  I  not  have  a  look  at  it?"  she  per 
sisted,  with  that  disarming  smile  she  kept  for 
great  occasions. 

Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  bowed.  He  could  not 
refuse  a  request  so  urged,  but  his  step  was  slow 
and  his  manner  next  to  ungracious  as  he  led  the 
way  to  the  door  of  the  adjoining  room  and  threw 
it  open. 

Just  what  she  had  been  told  to  expect!  Bare 
walls  and  floors  and  an  empty  chair!  Yet  she 
did  not  instantly  withdraw,  but  stood  silently 
contemplating  the  panelled  wainscoting  surround 
ing  her,  as  though  she  suspected  it  of  containing 
some  secret  hiding-place  not  apparent  to  the 
eye. 

Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  noting  this,  hastened  to  say : 

"The  walls  are  sound,  Miss  Strange.  They 
contain  no  hidden  cupboards." 

"And  that  door?"  she  asked,  pointing  to  a  por 
tion  of  the  wainscoting  so  exactly  like  the  rest 
that  only  the  most  experienced  eye  could  detect  the 
line  of  deeper  colour  which  marked  an  opening. 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  stood  rigid, 
then  the  immovable  pallor,  which  was  one  of  his 


364  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

chief  characteristics,  gave  way  to  a  deep  flush, 
as  he  explained: 

"There  was  a  door  there  once;  but  it  has  been 
permanently  closed.  With  cement, "  he  forced 
himself  to  add,  his  countenance  losing  its  evanes 
cent  colour  till  it  shone  ghastly  again  in  the  strong 
light. 

With  difficulty  Violet  preserved  her  show  of 
composure.  "The  door!"  she  murmured  to  her 
self.  ' '  I  have  found  it.  The  great  historic  door ! " 
But  her  tone  was  light  as  she  ventured  to  say: 

"Then  it  can  no  longer  be  opened  by  your  hand 
or  any  other?" 

"It  could  not  be  opened  with  an  axe. " 

Violet  sighed  in  the  midst  of  her  triumph.  Her 
curiosity  had  been  satisfied,  but  the  problem  she 
had  been  set  to  solve  looked  inexplicable.  But 
she  was  not  one  to  yield  easily  to  discouragement. 
Marking  the  disappointment  approaching  to 
disdain  in  every  eye  but  Mr.  Upjohn's,  she  drew 
herself  up — (she  had  not  far  to  draw)  and  made 
this  final  proposal. 

"A  sheet  of  paper,"  she  remarked,  "of  the  size 
of  this  one  cannot  be  spirited  away,  or  dissolved 
into  thin  air.  It  exists ;  it  is  here ;  and  all  we  want 
is  some  happy  thought  in  order  to  find  it.  I  ac 
knowledge  that  that  happy  thought  has  not  come 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      365 

to  me  yet,  but  sometimes  I  get  it  in  what  may  seem 
to  you  a  very  odd  way.  Forgetting  myself,  I 
try  to  assume  the  individuality  of  the  person  who 
has  worked  the  mystery.  If  I  can  think  with  his 
thoughts,  I  possibly  may  follow  him  in  his  actions. 
In  this  case  I  should  like  to  make  believe  for  a  few 
moments  that  I  am  Mr.  Spielhagen"  (with  what 
a  delicious  smile  she  said  this)  "I  should  like  to 
hold  his  thesis  in  my  hand  and  be  interrupted  in 
my  reading  by  Mr.  Cornell  offering  his  glass  of 
cordial;  then  I  should  like  to  nod  and  slip  off 
mentally  into  a  deep  sleep.  Possibly  in  that  sleep 
the  dream  may  come  which  will  clarify  the  whole 
situation.  Will  you  humour  me  so  far?" 

A  ridiculous  concession,  but  finally  she  had  her 
way;  the  farce  was  enacted  and  they  left  her  as 
she  had  requested  them  to  do,  alone  with  her 
dreams  in  the  small  room. 

Suddenly  they  heard  her  cry  out,  and  in  another 
moment  she  appeared  before  them,  the  picture  of 
excitement. 

"Is  this  chair  standing  exactly  as  it  did  when 
Mr.  Spielhagen  occupied  it?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Upjohn,  "it  faced  the  other 
way. " 

She  stepped  back  and  twirled  the  chair  about 
with  her  disengaged  hand. 


366  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

"So?" 

Mr.  Upjohn  and  Mr.  Spielhagen  both  nodded, 
so  did  the  others  when  she  glanced  at  them. 

With  a  sign  of  ill-concealed  satisfaction,  she 
drew  their  attention  to  herself;  then  eagerly  cried: 

"Gentlemen,  look  here!" 

Seating  herself,  she  allowed  her  whole  body  to 
relax  till  she  presented  the  picture  of  one  calmly 
asleep.  Then,  as  they  continued  to  gaze  at  her 
with  fascinated  eyes,  not  knowing  what  to  expect, 
they  saw  something  white  escape  from  her  lap 
and  slide  across  the  floor  till  it  touched  and  was 
stayed  by  the  wainscot.  It  was  the  top  page  of 
the  manuscript  she  held,  and  as  some  inkling  of  the 
truth  reached  their  astonished  minds,  she  sprang 
impetuously  to  her  feet  and,  pointing  to  the  fallen 
sheet,  cried: 

"Do  you  understand  now?  Look  where  it  lies, 
and  then  look  here!" 

She  had  bounded  towards  the  wall  and  was  now 
on  her  knees  pointing  to  the  bottom  of  the  wains 
cot,  just  a  few  inches  to  the  left  of  the  fallen 
page. 

"A  crack!"  she  cried,  "under  what  was  once  the 
door.  It's  a  very  thin  one,  hardly  perceptible  to 
the  eye.  But  see!"  Here  she  laid  her  finger  on 
the  fallen  paper  and  drawing  it  towards  her, 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      367 

pushed  it  carefully  against  the  lower  edge  of  the 
wainscot.     Half  of  it  at  once  disappeared. 

"I  could  easily  slip  it  all  through, "  she  assured 
them,  withdrawing  the  sheet  and  leaping  to  her 
feet  in  triumph.  "You  know  now  where  the 
missing  page  lies,  Mr.  Spielhagen.  All  that  re 
mains  is  for  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  to  get  it  for  you. " 

rv 

The  cries  of  mingled  astonishment  and  relief 
which  greeted  this  simple  elucidation  of  the  mys 
tery  were  broken  by  a  curiously  choked,  almost 
unintelligible,  cry.  It  came  from  the  man  thus 
appealed  to,  who,  unnoticed  by  them  all,  had 
started  at  her  first  word  and  gradually,  as  action 
followed  action,  withdrawn  himself  till  he  now 
stood  alone  and  in  an  attitude  almost  of  defiance 
behind  the  large  table  in  the  centre  of  the  library. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  began,  with  a  brusqueness 
which  gradually  toned  down  into  a  forced  urban 
ity  as  he  beheld  every  eye  fixed  upon  him  in 
amazement,  "that  circumstances  forbid  my  being 
of  assistance  to  you  in  this  unfortunate  matter. 
If  the  paper  lies  where  you  say,  and  I  see  no  other 
explanation  of  its  loss,  I  am  afraid  it  will  have  to 
remain  there  for  this  night  at  least.  The  cement 
in  which  that  door  is  embedded  is  thick  as  any 


368  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

wall;  it  would  take  men  with  pickaxes,  possibly 
with  dynamite,  to  make  a  breach  there  wide 
enough  for  any  one  to  reach  in.  And  we  are  far 
from  any  such  help. " 

In  the  midst  of  the  consternation  caused  by  these 
words,  the  clock  on  the  mantel  behind  his  back 
rang  out  the  hour.  It  was  but  a  double  stroke, 
but  that  meant  two  hours  after  midnight  and  had 
the  effect  of  a  knell  in  the  hearts  of  those  most 
interested. 

"But  I  am  expected  to  give  that  formula  into 
the  hands  of  our  manager  before  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  The  steamer  sails  at  a  quarter  after. ' ' 

"Can't  you  reproduce  a  copy  of  it  from  mem 
ory?"  some  one  asked;  "and  insert  it  in  its  proper 
place  among  the  pages  you  hold  there?" 

"The  paper  would  not  be  the  same.  That 
would  lead  to  questions  and  the  truth  would  come 
out.  As  the  chief  value  of  the  process  contained 
in  that  formula  lies  in  its  secrecy,  no  explanation 
I  could  give  would  relieve  me  from  the  suspicions 
which  an  acknowledgment  of  the  existence  of  a 
third  copy,  however  well  hidden,  would  entail. 
I  should  lose  my  great  opportunity. " 

Mr.  Cornell's  state  of  mind  can  be  imagined. 
In  an  access  of  mingled  regret  and  despair,  he  cast 
a  glance  at  Violet,  who,  with  a  nod  of  under- 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      369 

standing,  left  the  little  room  in  which  they  still 
stood,  and  approached  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn. 

Lifting  up  her  head, — for  he  was  very  tall, — 
and  instinctively  rising  on  her  toes  the  nearer  to 
reach  his  ear,  she  asked  in  a  cautious  whisper : 

"Is  there  no  other  way  of  reaching  that 
place?" 

She  acknowledged  afterwards,  that  for  one 
moment  her  heart  stood  still  from  fear,  such  a 
change  took  place  in  his  face,  though  she  says 
he  did  not  move  a  muscle.  Then,  just  when  she 
was  expecting  from  him  some  harsh  or  forbidding 
word,  he  wheeled  abruptly  away  from  her  and 
crossing  to  a  window  at  his  side,  lifted  the  shade 
and  looked  out.  When  he  returned,  he  was  his 
usual  self  so  far  as  she  could  see. 

"There  is  a  way, "  he  now  confided  to  her  in  a 
tone  as  low  as  her  own,  "but  it  can  only  be  taken 
by  a  child." 

"Not  by  me?"  she  asked,  smiling  down  at  her 
own  childish  proportions. 

For  an  instant  he  seemed  taken  aback,  then 
she  saw  his  hand  begin  to  tremble  and  his  lips 
twitch.  Somehow — she  knew  not  why — she  be 
gan  to  pity  him,  and  asked  herself  as  she  felt  rather 
than  saw  the  struggle  in  his  mind,  that  here  was  a 
trouble  which  if  once  understood  would  greatly 

24 


37°  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

dwarf  that  of  the  two  men  in  the  room  behind 
them. 

"I  am  discreet,"  she  whisperingly  declared. 
"I  have  heard  the  history  of  that  door — how  it 
was  against  the  tradition  of  the  family  to  have  it 
opened.  There  must  have  been  some  very  dread 
ful  reason.  But  old  superstitions  do  not  affect 
me,  and  if  you  will  allow  me  to  take  the  way  you 
mention,  I  will  follow  your  bidding  exactly,  and 
will  not  trouble  myself  about  anything  but  the 
recovery  of  this  paper,  which  must  lie  only  a  little 
way  inside  that  blocked-up  door." 

Was  his  look  one  of  rebuke  at  her  presumption, 
or  just  the  constrained  expression  of  a  perturbed 
mind  ?  Probably,  the  latter,  for  while  she  watched 
him  for  some  understanding  of  his  mood,  he  reached 
out  his  hand  and  touched  one  of  the  satin  folds 
crossing  her  shoulder. 

"You  would  soil  this  irretrievably, "  said  he. 

"There  is  stuff  in  the  stores  for  another,"  she 
smiled.  Slowly  his  touch  deepened  into  pressure. 
Watching  him  she  saw  the  crust  of  some  old  fear 
or  dominant  superstition  melt  under  her  eyes,  and 
was  quite  prepared,  when  he  remarked,  with  what 
for  him  was  a  lightsome  air: 

"I  will  buy  the  stuff,  if  you  will  dare  the  dark 
ness  and  intricacies  of  our  old  cellar.  I  can  give 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      371 

you  no  light.  You  will  have  to  feel  your  way 
according  to  my  direction. " 

"I  am  ready  to  dare  anything. " 

He  left  her  abruptly. 

"I  will  warn  Miss  Digby, "  he  called  back. 
"She  shall  go  with  you  as  far  as  the  cellar." 


Violet  in  her  short  career  as  an  investigator  of 
mysteries  had  been  in  many  a  situation  calling  for 
more  than  womanly  nerve  and  courage.  But 
never — or  so  it  seemed  to  her  at  the  time — had  she 
experienced  a  greater  depression  of  spirit  than 
when  she  stood  with  Miss  Digby  before  a  small 
door  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  cellar,  and  under 
stood  that  here  was  her  road — a  road  which  once 
entered,  she  must  take  alone. 

First,  it  was  such  a  small  door!  No  child  older 
than  eleven  could  possibly  squeeze  through  it. 
But  she  was  of  the  size  of  a  child  of  eleven  and 
might  possibly  manage  that  difficulty. 

Secondly:  there  are  always  some  unforeseen 
possibilities  in  every  situation,  and  though  she 
had  listened  carefully  to  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn's 
directions  and  was  sure  that  she  knew  them  by 
heart,  she  wished  she  had  kissed  her  father  more 
tenderly  in  leaving  him  that  night  for  the  ball, 


372  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

and  that  she  had  not  pouted  so  undutifully  at  some 
harsh  stricture  he  had  made.  Did  this  mean 
fear?  She  despised  the  feeling  if  it  did. 

Thirdly:  She  hated  darkness.  She  knew  this 
when  she  offered  herself  for  this  undertaking;  but 
she  was  in  a  bright  room  at  the  moment  and  only 
imagined  what  she  must  now  face  as  a  reality. 
But  one  jet  had  been  lit  in  the  cellar  and  that  near 
the  entrance.  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  seemed  not  to 
need  light,  even  in  his  unfastening  of  the  small  door 
which  Violet  was  sure  had  been  protected  by  more 
than  one  lock. 

Doubt,  shadow,  and  a  solitary  climb  between 
unknown  walls,  with  only  a  streak  of  light  for  her 
goal,  and  the  clinging  pressure  of  Florence  Digby's 
hand  on  her  own  for  solace — surely  the  prospect 
was  one  to  tax  the  courage  of  her  young  heart  to 
its  limit.  But  she  had  promised,  and  she  would 
fulfil.  So  with  a  brave  smile  she  stooped  to  the 
little  door,  and  in  another  moment  had  started  on 
her  journey. 

For  journey  the  shortest  distance  may  seem 
when  every  inch  means  a  heart-throb  and  one 
grows  old  in  traversing  a  foot.  At  first  the  way 
was  easy;  she  had  but  to  crawl  up  a  slight  incline 
with  the  comforting  consciousness  that  two  people 
were  within  reach  of  her  voice,  almost  within 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      373 

sound  of  her  beating  heart.  But  presently  she 
came  to  a  turn,  beyond  which  her  fingers  failed 
to  reach  any  wall  on  her  left.  Then  came  a  step 
up  which  she  stumbled,  and  farther  on  a  short 
flight,  each  tread  of  which  she  had  been  told  to 
test  before  she  ventured  to  climb  it,  lest  the  decay 
of  innumerable  years  should  have  weakened  the 
wood  too  much  to  bear  her  weight.  One,  two, 
three,  four,  five  steps!  Then  a  landing  with  an 
open  space  beyond.  Half  of  her  journey  was  done. 
Here  she  felt  she  could  give  a  minute  to  drawing 
her  breath  naturally,  if  the  air,  unchanged  in  years, 
would  allow  her  to  do  so.  Besides,  here  she  had 
been  enjoined  to  do  a  certain  thing  and  to  do  it 
according  to  instructions.  Three  matches  had 
been  given  her  and  a  little  night  candle.  Denied 
all  light  up  to  now,  it  was  at  this  point  she  was  to 
light  her  candle  and  place  it  on  the  floor,  so  that 
in  returning  she  should  not  miss  the  staircase  and 
get  a  fall.  She  had  promised  to  do  this,  and  was 
only  too  happy  to  see  a  spark  of  light  scintillate 
into  life  in  the  immeasurable  darkness. 

She  was  now  in  a  great  room  long  closed  to  the 
world,  where  once  officers  in  Colonial  wars  had 
feasted,  and  more  than  one  council  had  been  held. 
A  room,  too,  which  had  seen  more  than  one  tragic 
happening,  as  its  almost  unparalleled  isolation 


374  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

proclaimed.  So  much  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  had 
told  her;  but  she  was  warned  to  be  careful  in 
traversing  it  and  not  upon  any  pretext  to  swerve 
aside  from  the  right-hand  wall  till  she  came  to  a 
huge  mantelpiece.  This  passed,  and  a  sharp 
corner  turned,  she  ought  to  see  somewhere  in  the 
dim  spaces  before  her  a  streak  of  vivid  light  shining 
through  the  crack  at  the  bottom  of  the  blocked-up 
door.  The  paper  should  be  somewhere  near  this 
streak. 

All  simple,  all  easy  of  accomplishment,  if  only 
that  streak  of  light  were  all  she  was  likely  to  see  or 
think  of.  If  the  horror  which  was  gripping  her 
throat  should  not  take  shape!  If  things  would 
remain  shrouded  in  impenetrable  darkness,  and 
not  force  themselves  in  shadowy  suggestion  upon 
her  excited  fancy!  But  the  blackness  of  the 
passage-way  through  which  she  had  just  struggled, 
was  not  to  be  found  here.  Whether  it  was  the 
effect  of  that  small  flame  flickering  at  the  top  of  the 
staircase  behind  her,  or  of  some  change  in  her  own 
powers  of  seeing,  surely  there  was  a  difference  in 
her  present  outlook.  Tall  shapes  were  becoming 
visible — the  air  was  no  longer  blank — she  could 
see —  Then  suddenly  she  saw  why.  In  the  wall 
high  up  on  her  right  was  a  window.  It  was  small 
and  all  but  invisible,  being  covered  on  the  outside 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      375 

with  vines,  and  on  the  inside  with  the  cobwebs  of 
a  century.  But  some  small  gleams  from  the  star 
light  night  came  through,  making  phantasms  out 
of  ordinary  things,  which  unseen  were  horrible 
enough,  and  half  seen  choked  her  heart  with  terror. 

"I  cannot  bear  it,"  she  whispered  to  herself 
even  while  creeping  forward,  her  hand  upon  the 
wall.  ' '  I  will  close  my  eyes ' '  was  her  next  thought. 
"I  will  make  my  own  darkness, "  and  with  a  spas 
modic  forcing  of  her  lids  together,  she  continued 
to  creep  on,  passing  the  mantelpiece,  where  she 
knocked  against  something  which  fell  with  an 
awful  clatter. 

This  sound,  followed  as  it  was  by  that  of 
smothered  voices  from  the  excited  group  awaiting 
the  result  of  her  experiment  from  behind  the  im 
penetrable  wall  she  should  be  nearing  now  if  she 
had  followed  her  instructions  aright,  freed  her  in 
stantly  from  her  fancies;  and  opening  her  eyes 
once  more,  she  cast  a  look  ahead,  and  to  her  de 
light,  saw  but  a  few  steps  away,  the  thin  streak  of 
bright  light  which  marked  the  end  of  her  journey. 

It  took  her  but  a  moment  after  that  to  find  the 
missing  page,  and  picking  it  up  in  haste  from  the 
dusty  floor,  she  turned  herself  quickly  about  and 
joyfully  began  to  retrace  her  steps.  Why  then, 
was  it  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  more  her 


376  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

voice  suddenly  broke  into  a  wild,  unearthly  shriek, 
which  ringing  with  terror  burst  the  bounds  of  that 
dungeon-like  room,  and  sank,  a  barbed  shaft,  into 
the  breasts  of  those  awaiting  the  result  of  her 
doubtful  adventure,  at  either  end  of  this  dread 
no-thoroughfare. 

What  had  happened? 

If  they  had  thought  to  look  out,  they  would 
have  seen  that  the  moon — held  in  check  by  a  bank 
of  cloud  occupying  half  the  heavens — had  suddenly 
burst  its  bounds  and  was  sending  long  bars  of 
revealing  light  into  every  uncurtained  window. 

VI 

Florence  Digby,  in  her  short  and  sheltered  life, 
had  possibly  never  known  any  very  great  or  deep 
emotion.  But  she  touched  the  bottom  of  extreme 
terror  at  that  moment,  as  with  her  ears  still  thril 
ling  with  Violet's  piercing  cry,  she  turned  to  look 
at  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  and  beheld  the  instantan 
eous  wreck  it  had  made  of  this  seemingly  strong 
man.  Not  till  he  came  to  lie  in  his  coffin  would 
he  show  a  more  ghastly  countenance;  and  tremb 
ling  herself  almost  to  the  point  of  falling,  she 
caught  him  by  the  arm  and  sought  to  read  in 
his  face  what  had  happened.  Something  dis 
astrous  she  was  sure;  something  which  he  had 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      377 

feared  and  was  partially  prepared  for,  yet  which  in 
happening  had  crushed  him.  Was  it  a  pitfall  into 
which  the  poor  little  lady  had  fallen  ?  If  so —  But 
he  is  speaking — mumbling  low  words  to  himself. 
Some  of  them  she  can  hear.  He  is  reproaching 
himself — repeating  over  and  over  that  he  should 
never  have  taken  such  a  chance;  that  he  should 
have  remembered  her  youth — the  weakness  of  a 
young  girl's  nerve.  He  had  been  mad,  and  now — 
and  now 

With  the  repetition  of  this  word  his  murmuring 
ceased.  All  his  energies  were  now  absorbed  in 
listening  at  the  low  door  separating  him  from  what 
he  was  agonizing  to  know — a  door  impossible  to 
enter,  impossible  to  enlarge — a  barrier  to  all  help— 
an  opening  whereby  sound  might  pass  but  nothing 
else,  save  her  own  small  body,  now  lying — where? 

"Is  she  hurt?"  faltered  Florence,  stooping,  her 
self,  to  listen.  "Can  you  hear  anything — any 
thing?" 

For  an  instant  he  did  not  answer;  every  faculty 
was  absorbed  in  the  one  sense;  then  slowly  and  in 
gasps  he  began  to  mutter: 

"I  think — I  hear — something.  Her  step — no, 
no,  no  step.  All  is  as  quiet  as  death;  not  a  sound, 
— not  a  breath — she  has  fainted.  O  God!  O 
God!  Why  this  calamity  on  top  of  all!" 


378  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

He  had  sprung  to  his  feet  at  the  utterance  of 
this  invocation,  but  next  moment  was  down  on  his 
knees  again,  listening — listening. 

Never  was  silence  more  profound;  they  were 
hearkening  for  murmurs  from  a  tomb.  Florence 
began  to  sense  the  full  horror  of  it  all,  and  was 
swaying  helplessly  when  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn 
impulsively  lifted  his  hand  in  an  admonitory 
Hush !  and  through  the  daze  of  her  faculties  a  small 
far  sound  began  to  make  itself  heard,  growing 
louder  as  she  waited,  then  becoming  faint  again, 
then  altogether  ceasing  only  to  renew  itself  once 
more,  till  it  resolved  into  an  approaching  step, 
faltering  in  its  course,  but  coming  ever  nearer 
and  nearer. 

"She's  safe!  She's  not  hurt!"  sprang  from 
Florence's  lips  in  inexpressible  relief ;  and  expecting 
Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  to  show  an  equal  joy,  she 
turned  towards  him,  with  the  cheerful  cry 

"Now  if  she  has  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find 
that  missing  page,  we  shall  all  be  repaid  for  our 
fright." 

A  movement  on  his  part,  a  shifting  of  position 
which  brought  him  finally  to  his  feet,  but  he  gave 
no  other  proof  of  having  heard  her,  nor  did  his 
countenance  mirror  her  relief.  "It  is  as  if  he 
dreaded,  instead  of  hailed,  her  return,"  was 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      379 

Florence's  inward  comment  as  she  watched  him 
involuntarily  recoil  at  each  fresh  token  of  Violet's 
advance. 

Yet  because  this  seemed  so  very  unnatural,  she 
persisted  in  her  efforts  to  lighten  the  situation,  and 
when  he  made  no  attempt  to  encourage  Violet  in 
her  approach,  she  herself  stooped  and  called  out  a 
cheerful  welcome  which  must  have  rung  sweetly 
in  the  poor  little  detective's  ears. 

A  sorry  sight  was  Violet,  when,  helped  by  Flor 
ence,  she  finally  crawled  into  view  through  the 
narrow  opening  and  stood  once  again  on  the  cellar 
floor.  Pale,  trembling,  and  soiled  with  the  dust  of 
years,  she  presented  a  helpless  figure  enough,  till 
the  joy  in  Florence's  face  recalled  some  of  her  spirit, 
and,  glancing  down  at  her  hand  in  which  a  sheet 
of  paper  was  visible,  she  asked  for  Mr.  Spielhagen. 

"I've  got  the  formula, "  she  said.  "If  you  will 
bring  him,  I  will  hand  it  over  to  him  here. " 

Not  a  word  of  her  adventure;  nor  so  much  as 
one  glance  at  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn,  standing  far 
back  in  the  shadows. 

Nor  was  she  more  communicative,  when,  the 
formula  restored  and  everything  made  right  with 
Mr.  Spielhagen,  they  all  came  together  again  in 
the  library  for  a  final  word. 


380  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

"I  was  frightened  by  the  silence  and  the  dark 
ness,  and  so  cried  out, "  she  explained  in  answer  to 
their  questions.  "Any  one  would  have  done  so 
who  found  himself  alone  in  so  musty  a  place," 
she  added,  with  an  attempt  at  lightsomeness 
which  deepened  the  pallor  on  Mr.  Van  Broeck- 
lyn's  cheek,  already  sufficiently  noticeable  to  have 
been  remarked  upon  by  more  than  one. 

"No  ghosts?"  laughed  Mr.  Cornell,  too  happy 
in  the  return  of  his  hopes  to  be  fully  sensible  of  the 
feelings  of  those  about  him.  "No  whispers  from 
impalpable  lips  or  touches  from  spectre  hands? 
Nothing  to  explain  the  mystery  of  that  room  so 
long  shut  up  that  even  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  declares 
himself  ignorant  of  its  secret?" 

' '  Nothing, ' '  returned  Violet,  showing  her  dimples 
in  full  force  now. 

"If  Miss  Strange  had  any  such  experiences — if 
she  has  anything  to  tell  worthy  of  so  marked  a 
curiosity,  she  will  tell  it  now,"  came  from  the 
gentleman  just  alluded  to,  in  tones  so  stern  and 
strange  that  all  show  of  frivolity  ceased  on  the 
instant.  "Have  you  anything  to  tell,  Miss 
Strange?" 

Greatly  startled,  she  regarded  him  with  widening 
eyes  for  a  moment,  then  with  a  move  towards 
the  door,  remarked,  with  a  general  look  about  her: 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      381 

"Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  knows  his  own  house,  and 
doubtless  can  relate  its  histories  if  he  will.  I  am 
a  busy  little  body  who  having  finished  my  work 
am  now  ready  to  return  home,  there  to  wait  for  the 
next  problem  which  an  indulgent  fate  may  offer 
me." 

She  was  near  the  threshold — she  was  about 
to  take  her  leave,  when  suddenly  she  felt  two 
hands  fall  on  her  shoulder,  and  turning,  met  the 
eyes  of  Mr.  Van  Broecklyn  burning  into  her 
own. 

"You  saw!"  dropped  in  an  almost  inaudible 
whisper  from  his  lips. 

The  shiver  which  shook  her  answered  him  better 
than  any  word. 

With  an  exclamation  of  despair,  he  withdrew 
his  hands,  and  facing  the  others  now  standing 
together  in  a  startled  group,  he  said,  as  soon 
as  he  could  recover  some  of  his  self-possession : 

"I  must  ask  for  another  hour  of  your  company. 
I  can  no  longer  keep  my  sorrow  to  myself.  A 
dividing  line  has  just  been  drawn  across  my  life, 
and  I  must  have  the  sympathy  of  someone  who 
knows  my  past,  or  I  shall  go  mad  in  my  self- 
imposed  solitude.  Come  back,  Miss  Strange. 
You  of  all  others  have  the  prior  right  to 
hear." 


382  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

vn 

"I  shall  have  to  begin, "  said  he,  when  they  were 
all  seated  and  ready  to  listen,  "by  giving  you  some 
idea,  not  so  much  of  the  family  tradition,  as  of  the 
effect  of  this  tradition  upon  all  who  bore  the  name 
of  Van  Broecklyn.  This  is  not  the  only  house, 
even  in  America,  which  contains  a  room  shut  away 
from  intrusion.  In  England  there  are  many. 
But  there  is  this  difference  between  most  of  them 
and  ours.  No  bars  or  locks  forcibly  held  shut  the 
door  we  were  forbidden  to  open.  The  command 
was  enough ;  that  and  the  superstitious  fear  which 
such  a  command,  attended  by  a  long  and  unques 
tioning  obedience,  was  likely  to  engender. 

"I  know  no  more  than  you  do  why  some  early 
ancestor  laid  his  ban  upon  this  room.  But  from 
my  earliest  years  I  was  given  to  understand  that 
there  was  one  latch  in  the  house  which  was  never 
to  be  lifted;  that  any  fault  would  be  forgiven 
sooner  than  that;  that  the  honour  of  the  whole 
family  stood  in  the  way  of  disobedience,  and  that 
I  was  to  preserve  that  honour  to  my  dying  day. 
You  will  say  that  all  this  is  fantastic,  and  wonder 
that  sane  people  in  these  modern  times  should  sub 
ject  themselves  to  such  a  ridiculous  restriction, 
especially  when  no  good  reason  was  alleged,  and 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      383 

the  very  source  of  the  tradition  from  which  it 
sprung  forgotten.  You  are  right;  but  if  you  look 
long  into  human  nature,  you  will  see  that  the  bonds 
which  hold  the  firmest  are  not  material  ones — 
that  an  idea  will  make  a  man  and  mould  a  char 
acter — that  it  lies  at  the  source  of  all  heroisms 
and  is  to  be  courted  or  feared  as  the  case  may  be. 

"For  me  it  possessed  a  power  proportionate  to 
my  loneliness.  I  don't  think  there  was  ever  a 
more  lonely  child.  My  father  and  mother  were  so 
unhappy  in  each  other's  companionship  that  one 
or  other  of  them  was  almost  always  away.  But 
I  saw  little  of  either  even  when  they  were  at  home. 
The  constraint  in  their  attitude  towards  each  other 
affected  their  conduct  towards  me.  I  have  asked 
myself  more  than  once  if  either  of  them  had  any 
real  affection  for  me.  To  my  father  I  spoke  of  her ; 
to  her  of  him;  and  never  pleasurably.  This  I  am 
forced  to  say,  or  you  cannot  understand  my  story. 
Would  to  God  I  could  tell  another  tale !  Would  to 
God  I  had  such  memories  as  other  men  have  of  a 
father's  clasp,  a  mother's  kiss — but  no!  my  grief, 
already  profound,  might  have  become  abysmal. 
Perhaps  it  is  best  as  it  is ;  only,  I  might  have  been 
a  different  child,  and  made  for  myself  a  different 
fate — who  knows. 

"As  it  was,  I  was  thrown  almost  entirely  upon 


384          Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

my  own  resources  for  any  amusement.  This  led 
me  to  a  discovery  I  made  one  day.  In  a  far  part 
of  the  cellar  behind  some  heavy  casks,  I  found  a 
little  door.  It  was  so  low — so  exactly  fitted  to  my 
small  body,  that  I  had  the  greatest  desire  to  enter 
it.  But  I  could  not  get  around  the  casks.  At 
last  an  expedient  occurred  to  me.  We  had  an  old 
servant  who  came  nearer  loving  me  than  any  one 
else.  One  day  when  I  chanced  to  be  alone  in  the 
cellar,  I  took  out  my  ball  and  began  throwing  it 
about.  Finally  it  landed  behind  the  casks,  and 
I  ran  with  a  beseeching  cry  to  Michael,  to  move 
them. 

"It  was  a  task  requiring  no  little  strength  and 
address,  but  he  managed,  after  a  few  herculean 
efforts,  to  shift  them  aside  and  I  saw  with  delight 
my  way  opened  to  that  mysterious  little  door. 
But  I  did  not  approach  it  then;  some  instinct 
deterred  me.  But  when  the  opportunity  came  for 
me  to  venture  there  alone,  I  did  so,  in  the  most 
adventurous  spirit,  and  began  my  operations  by 
sliding  behind  the  casks  and  testing  the  handle 
of .  the  little  door.  It  turned,  and  after  a  pull 
or  two  the  door  yielded.  With  my  heart  in  my 
mouth,  I  stooped  and  peered  in.  I  could  see 
nothing — a  black  hole  and  nothing  more.  This 
caused  me  a  moment's  hesitation.  I  was  afraid 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      385 

of  the  dark — had  always  been.  But  curiosity 
and  the  spirit  of  adventure  triumphed.  Saying 
to  myself  that  I  was  Robinson  Crusoe  exploring 
the  cave,  I  crawled  in,  only  to  find  that  I  had 
gained  nothing.  It  was  as  dark  inside  as  it  had 
looked  to  be  from  without. 

"There  was  no  fun  in  this,  so  I  crawled  back, 
and  when  I  tried  the  experiment  again,  it  was  with 
a  bit  of  candle  in  my  hand,  and  a  surreptitious 
match  or  two.  What  I  saw,  when  with  a  very 
trembling  little  hand  I  had  lighted  one  of  the 
matches,  would  have  been  disappointing  to  most 
boys,  but  not  to  me.  The  litter  and  old  boards 
I  saw  in  odd  corners  about  me  were  full  of  possi 
bilities,  while  in  the  dimness  beyond  I  seemed  to 

perceive  a  sort  of  staircase  which  might  lead 

I  do  not  think  I  made  any  attempt  to  answer  that 
question  even  in  my  own  mind,  but  when,  after 
some  hesitation  and  a  sense  of  great  daring,  I 
finally  crept  up  those  steps,  I  remember  very  well 
my  sensation  at  finding  myself  in  front  of  a  narrow 
closed  door.  It  suggested  too  vividly  the  one 
in  Grandfather's  little  room — the  door  in  the  wain 
scot  which  we  were  never  to  open.  I  had  my  first 
real  trembling  fit  here,  and  at  once  fascinated  and 
repelled  by  this  obstruction  I  stumbled  and  lost 
my  candle,  which,  going  out  in  the  fall,  left  me  in 


386  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

total  darkness  and  a  very  frightened  state  of 
mind.  For  my  imagination  which  had  been  greatly 
stirred  by  my  own  vague  thoughts  of  the  forbidden 
room,  immediately  began  to  people  the  space 
about  me  with  ghoulish  figures.  How  should  I 
escape  them,  how  ever  reach  my  own  little  room 
again  undetected  and  in  safety? 

"But  these  terrors,  deep  as  they  were,  were 
nothing  to  the  real  fright  which  seized  me  when, 
the  darkness  finally  braved,  and  the  way  found 
back  into  the  bright,  wide-open  halls  of  the  house, 
I  became  conscious  of  having  dropped  something 
besides  the  candle.  My  match-box  was  gone — 
not  my  match-box,  but  my  grandfather's  which  I 
had  found  lying  on  his  table  and  carried  off  on  this 
adventure,  in  all  the  confidence  of  irresponsible 
youth.  To  make  use  of  it  for  a  little  while,  trust 
ing  to  his  not  missing  it  in  the  confusion  I  had 
noticed  about  the  house  that  morning,  was  one 
thing;  to  lose  it  was  another.  It  was  no  common 
box.  Made  of  gold  and  cherished  for  some  special 
reason  well  known  to  himself,  I  had  often  heard 
him  say  that  some  day  I  would  appreciate  its  value 
and  be  glad  to  own  it.  And  I  had  left  it  in  that 
hole  and  at  any  minute  he  might  miss  it — possibly 
ask  for  it!  The  day  was  one  of  torment.  My 
mother  was  away  or  shut  up  in  her  room.  My 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      387 

father — I  don't  know  just  what  thoughts  I  had 
about  him.  He  was  not  to  be  seen  either,  and 
the  servants  cast  strange  looks  at  me  when  I  spoke 
his  name.  But  I  little  realized  the  blow  which  had 
just  fallen  upon  the  house  in  his  definite  departure, 
and  only  thought  of  my  own  trouble,  and  of  how 
I  should  meet  my  grandfather's  eye  when  the 
hour  came  for  him  to  draw  me  to  his  knee  for  his 
usual  good-night. 

"That  I  was  spared  this  ordeal  for  the  first  time 
this  very  night  first  comforted  me,  then  added  to 
my  distress.  He  had  discovered  his  loss  and  was 
angry.  On  the  morrow  he  would  ask  me  for  the 
box  and  I  would  have  to  lie,  for  never  could  I  find 
the  courage  to  tell  him  where  I  had  been.  Such 
an  act  of  presumption  he  would  never  forgive,  or  so 
I  thought  as  I  lay  and  shivered  in  my  little  bed. 
That  his  coldness,  his  neglect,  sprang  from  the 
discovery  just  made  that  my  mother  as  well  as  my 
father  had  just  fled  the  house  forever  was  as  little 
known  to  me  as  the  morning  calamity.  I  had 
been  given  my  usual  tendance  and  was  tucked 
safely  into  bed;  but  the  gloom,  the  silence 
which  presently  settled  upon  the  house  had  a 
very  different  explanation  in  my  mind  from 
the  real  one.  My  sin  (for  such  it  loomed 
large  in  my  mind  by  this  time)  coloured 


388  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

the  whole  situation  and  accounted  for  every 
event. 

"At  what  hour  I  slipped  from  my  bed  on  to  the 
cold  floor,  I  shall  never  know.  To  me  it  seemed 
to  be  in  the  dead  of  night;  but  I  doubt  if  it  were 
more  than  ten.  So  slowly  creep  away  the  mo 
ments  to  a  wakeful  child.  I  had  made  a  great 
resolve.  Awful  as  the  prospect  seemed  to  me, — 
— frightened  as  I  was  by  the  very  thought, — I 
had  determined  in  my  small  mind  to  go  down  into 
the  cellar,  and  into  that  midnight  hole  again,  in 
search  of  the  lost  box.  I  would  take  a  candle  and 
matches,  this  time  from  my  own  mantel-shelf,  and 
if  everyone  was  asleep,  as  appeared  from  the 
deathly  quiet  of  the  house,  I  would  be  able  to  go 
and  come  without  anybody  ever  being  the  wiser. 

"Dressing  in  the  dark,  I  found  my  matches  and 
my  candle  and,  putting  them  in  one  of  my  pockets, 
softly  opened  my  door  and  looked  out.  Nobody 
was  stirring;  every  light  was  out  except  a  solitary 
one  in  the  lower  hall.  That  this  still  burned  con- 
veryed  no  meaning  to  my  mind.  How  could  I 
know  that  the  house  was  so  still  and  the  rooms  so 
dark  because  everyone  was  out  searching  for  some 
clue  to  my  mother's  flight?  If  I  had  looked  at 
the  clock — but  I  did  not ;  I  was  too  intent  upon  my 
errand,  too  filled  with  the  fever  of  my  desperate 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      389 

undertaking,  to  be  affected  by  anything  not  bear 
ing  directly  upon  it. 

"  Of  the  terror  caused  by  my  own  shadow  on  the 
wall  as  I  made  the  turn  in  the  hall  below,  I  have 
as  keen  a  recollection  to-day  as  though  it  happened 
yesterday.  But  that  did  not  deter  me;  nothing 
deterred  me,  till  safe  in  the  cellar  I  crouched  down 
behind  the  casks  to  get  my  breath  again  before 
entering  the  hole  beyond. 

"I  had  made  some  noise  in  feeling  my  way 
around  these  casks,  and  I  trembled  lest  these 
sounds  had  been  heard  upstairs!  But  this  fear 
soon  gave  place  to  one  far  greater.  Other  sounds 
were  making  themselves  heard.  A  din  of  small 
skurrying  feet  above,  below,  on  every  side  of  me ! 
Rats!  rats  in  the  wall!  rats  on  the  cellar  bot 
tom!  How  I  ever  stirred  from  the  spot  I  do  not 
know,  but  when  I  did  stir,  it  was  to  go  forward, 
and  enter  the  uncanny  hole. 

"I  had  intended  to  light  my  candle  when  I  got 
inside ;  but  for  some  reason  I  went  stumbling  along 
in  the  dark,  following  the  wall  till  I  got  to  the  steps 
where  I  had  dropped  the  box.  Here  a  light  was 
necessary,  but  my  hand  did  not  go  to  my  pocket. 
I  thought  it  better  to  climb  the  steps  first,  and 
softly  one  foot  found  the  tread  and  then  another. 
I  had  only  three  more  to  climb  and  then  my  right 


390  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

hand,  now  feeling  its  way  along  the  wall,  would  be 
free  to  strike  a  match.  I  climbed  the  three  steps 
and  was  steadying  myself  against  the  door  for  a 
final  plunge,  when  something  happened — some 
thing  so  strange,  so  unexpected,  and  so  incredible 
that  I  wonder  I  did  not  shriek  aloud  in  my  terror. 
The  door  was  moving  under  my  hand.  It  was 
slowly  opening  inward.  I  could  feel  the  chill 
made  by  the  widening  crack.  Moment  by  moment 
this  chill  increased;  the  gap  was  growing — a 
presence  was  there — a  presence  before  which  I 
sank  in  a  small  heap  upon  the  landing.  Would  it 
advance?  Had  it  feet — hands?  Was  it  a  presence 
which  could  be  felt? 

"Whatever  it  was,  it  made  no  attempt  to  pass, 
and  presently  I  lifted  my  head  only  to  quake 
anew  at  the  sound  of  a  voice — a  human  voice — my 
mother's  voice — so  near  me  that  by  putting  out  my 
arms  I  might  have  touched  her. 

"She  was  speaking  to  my  father.  I  knew  it 
from  the  tone.  She  was  saying  words  which,  little 
understood  as  they  were,  made  such  a  havoc  in  my 
youthful  mind  that  I  have  never  forgotten  them. 

"'I  have  come!'  she  said.  'They  think  I  have 
fled  the  house  and  are  looking  far  and  wide  for  me. 
We  shall  not  be  disturbed.  Who  would  think  of 
looking  here  for  either  you  or  me. ' 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      391 

"Here!  The  word  sank  like  a  plummet  in  my 
breast.  I  had  known  for  some  few  minutes  that 
I  was  on  the  threshold  of  the  forbidden  room ;  but 
they  were  in  it.  I  can  scarcely  make  you  under 
stand  the  tumult  which  this  awoke  in  my  brain. 
Somehow,  I  had  never  thought  that  any  such  brav 
ing  of  the  house's  law  would  be  possible. 

"I  heard  my  father's  answer,  but  it  conveyed 
no  meaning  to  me.  I  also  realized  that  he  spoke 
from  a  distance, — that  he  was  at  one  end  of  the 
room  while  we  were  at  the  other.  I  was  presently 
to  have  this  idea  confirmed,  for  while  I  was  striving 
with  all  my  might  and  main  to  subdue  my  very 
heart-throbs  so  that  she  would  not  hear  me  or 
suspect  my  presence,  the  darkness — I  should  rather 
say  the  blackness  of  the  place  yielded  to  a  flash 
of  lightning — heat  lightning,  all  glare  and  no 
sound — and  I  caught  an  instantaneous  vision  of 
my  father's  figure  standing  with  gleaming  things 
about  him,  which  affected  me  at  the  moment  as 
supernatural,  but  which,  in  later  years,  I  decided 
to  have  been  weapons  hanging  on  a  wall. 

"She  saw  him  too,  for  she  gave  a  quick  laugh 
and  said  they  would  not  need  any  candles;  and 
then,  there  was  another  flash  and  I  saw  something 
in  his  hand  and  something  in  hers,  and  though  I  did 
not  yet  understand,  I  felt  myself  turning  deathly 


392  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

sick  and  gave  a  choking  gasp  which  was  lost  in 
the  rush  she  made  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  and 
the  keenness  of  her  swift  low  cry. 

"L  Garde-toil  for  only  one  of  us  will  ever  leave 
this  room  alive ! ' 

"A  duel!  a  duel  to  the  death  between  this 
husband  and  wife — this  father  and  mother — in  this 
hole  of  dead  tragedies  and  within  the  sight  and 
hearing  of  their  child!  Has  Satan  ever  devised 
a  scheme  more  hideous  for  ruining  the  life  of  an 
eleven-year-old  boy! 

"Not  that  I  took  it  all  in  at  once.  I  was  too 
innocent  and  much  too  dazed  to  comprehend  such 
hatred,  much  less  the  passions  which  engendered 
it.  I  only  knew  that  something  horrible — some 
thing  beyond  the  conception  of  my  childish  mind — 
was  going  to  take  place  in  the  darkness  before  me ; 
and  the  terror  of  it  made  me  speechless;  would 
to  God  it  had  made  me  deaf  and  blind  and  dead ! 

"She  had  dashed  from  her  corner  and  he  had 
slid  away  from  his,  as  the  next  fantastic  gleam 
which  lit  up  the  room  showed  me.  It  also  showed 
the  weapons  in  their  hands,  and  for  a  moment  I 
felt  reassured  when  I  saw  that  these  were  swords, 
for  I  had  seen  them  before  with  foils  in  their  hands 
practising  for  exercise,  as  they  said,  in  the  great 
garret.  But  the  swords  had  buttons  on  them, 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      393 

and  this  time  the  tips  were  sharp  and  shone  in  the 
keen  light. 

"An  exclamation  from  her  and  a  growl  of  rage 
from  him  were  followed  by  movements  I  could 
scarcely  hear,  but  which  were  terrifying  from  their 
very  quiet.  Then  the  sound  of  a  clash.  The 
swords  had  crossed. 

"Had  the  lightning  flashed  forth  then,  the  end 
of  one  of  them  might  have  occurred.  But  the 
darkness  remained  undisturbed,  and  when  the 
glare  relit  the  great  room  again,  they  were  already 
far  apart.  This  called  out  a  word  from  him;  the 
one  sentence  he  spoke — I  can  never  forget  it : 

1 1  Rhoda,  there  is  blood  on  your  sleeve ;  I  have 
wounded  you.  Shall  we  call  it  off  and  fly,  as  the 
poor  creatures  in  there  think  we  have,  to  the 
opposite  ends  of  the  earth?' 

"I  almost  spoke;  I  almost  added  my  childish 
plea  to  his  for  them  to  stop — to  remember  me  and 
stop.  But  not  a  muscle  in  my  throat  responded 
to  my  agonized  effort.  Her  cold,  clear  'No!'  fell 
before  my  tongue  was  loosed  or  my  heart  freed 
from  the  ponderous  weight  crushing  it. 

' '  I  have  vowed  and  /  keep  my  promises, '  she 
went  on  in  a  tone  quite  strange  to  me.  'What 
would  cither's  life  be  worth  with  the  other  alive 
and  happy  in  this  world. ' 


394  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

"He  made  no  answer;  and  those  subtle  move 
ments — shadows  of  movements  I  might  almost  call 
them — recommenced.  Then  there  came  a  sudden 
cry,  shrill  and  poignant — had  Grandfather  been  in 
his  room  he  would  surely  have  heard  it — and  the 
flash  coming  almost  simultaneously  with  its 
utterance,  I  saw  what  has  haunted  my  sleep  from 
that  day  to  this,  my  father  pinned  against  the  wall, 
sword  still  in  hand,  and  before  him  my  mother, 
fiercely  triumphant,  her  staring  eyes  fixed  on  his 
and 

"Nature  could  bear  no  more;  the  band  loosened 
from  my  throat;  the  oppression  lifted  from  my 
breast  long  enough  for  me  to  give  one  wild  wail 
and  she  turned,  saw  (heaven  sent  its  flashes  quickly 
at  this  moment)  and  recognizing  my  childish  form, 
all  the  horror  of  her  deed  (or  so  I  have  fondly 
hoped)  rose  within  her,  and  she  gave  a  start 
and  fell  full  upon  the  point  upturned  to  receive 
her. 

"A  groan;  then  a  gasping  sigh  from  him,  and 
silence  settled  upon  the  room  and  upon  my  heart, 
and  so  far  as  I  knew  upon  the  whole  created 
world. 

"That  is  my  story,  friends.  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  have  never  been  or  lived  like  other  men?'* 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      395 

After  a  few  moments  of  sympathetic  silence,  Mr. 
Van  Broecklyn  went  on  to  say: 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  had  a  moment's  doubt  that 
my  parents  both  lay  dead  on  the  floor  of  that  great 
room.  When  I  came  to  myself — which  may  have 
been  soon,  and  may  not  have  been  for  a  long  while 
— the  lightning  had  ceased  to  flash,  leaving  the 
darkness  stretching  like  a  blank  pall  between  me 
and  that  spot  in  which  were  concentrated  all  the 
terrors  of  which  my  imagination  was  capable. 
I  dared  not  enter  it.  I  dared  not  take  one  step 
that  way.  My  instinct  was  to  fly  and  hide  my 
trembling  body  again  in  my  own  bed;  and  asso 
ciated  with  this,  in  fact  dominating  it  and  making 
me  old  before  my  time,  was  another — never  to  tell ; 
never  to  let  any  one,  least  of  all  my  grandfather — 
know  what  that  forbidden  room  now  contained. 
I  felt  in  an  irresistible  sort  of  way  that  my  father's 
and  mother's  honour  was  at  stake.  Besides,  terror 
held  me  back;  I  felt  that  I  should  die  if  I  spoke. 
Childhood  has  such  terrors  and  such  heroisms. 
Silence  often  covers  in  such,  abysses  of  thought  and 
feeling  which  astonish  us  in  later  years.  There  is 
no  suffering  like  a  child's,  terrified  by  a  secret  which 
it  dare  not  for  some  reason  disclose. 

"Events  aided  me.  When,  in  desperation  to 
see  once  more  the  light  and  all  the  things  which 


396  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

linked  me  to  life — my  little  bed,  the  toys  on  the 
window-sill,  my  squirrel  in  its  cage — I  forced 
myself  to  retraverse  the  empty  house,  expecting 
at  every  turn  to  hear  my  father's  voice  or  come 
upon  the  image  of  my  mother — yes,  such  was  the 
confusion  of  my  mind,  though  I  knew  well  enough 
even  then  that  they  were  dead  and  that  I  should 
never  hear  the  one  or  see  the  other.  I  was 
so  benumbed  with  the  cold  in  my  half -dressed 
condition,  that  I  woke  in  a  fever  next  morn 
ing  after  a  terrible  dream  which  forced  from 
my  lips  the  cry  of  'Mother!  Mother!' — only 
that. 

"I  was  cautious  even  in  delirium.  This  de 
lirium  and  my  flushed  cheeks  and  shining  eyes  led 
them  to  be  very  careful  of  me.  I  was  told  that  my 
mother  was  away  from  home ;  and  when  after  two 
days  of  search  they  were  quite  sure  that  all  efforts 
to  find  either  her  or  my  father  were  likely  to  prove 
fruitless,  that  she  had  gone  to  Europe  where  we 
would  follow  her  as  soon  as  I  was  well.  This 
promise,  offering  as  it  did,  a  prospect  of  immediate 
release  from  the  terrors  which  were  consuming  me, 
had  an  extraordinary  effect  upon  me.  I  got  up 
out  of  my  bed  saying  that  I  was  well  now  and 
ready  to  start  on  the  instant.  The  doctor,  finding 
my  pulse  equable,  and  my  whole  condition  wonder- 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      397 

fully  improved,  and  attributing  it,  as  was  natural, 
to  my  hope  of  soon  joining  my  mother,  advised 
my  whim  to  be  humoured  and  this  hope  kept  active 
till  travel  and  intercourse  with  children  should 
give  me  strength  and  prepare  me  for  the  bitter 
truth  ultimately  awaiting  me.  They  listened  to 
him  and  in  twenty-four  hours  our  preparations 
were  made.  We  saw  the  house  closed — with 
what  emotions  surging  in  one  small  breast,  I  leave 
you  to  imagine — and  then  started  on  our  long  tour. 
For  five  years  we  wandered  over  the  continent  of 
Europe,  my  grandfather  finding  distraction,  as  well 
as  myself,  in  foreign  scenes  and  associations. 

"But  return  was  inevitable.  What  I  suffered 
on  re-entering  this  house,  God  and  my  sleepless 
pillow  alone  know.  Had  any  discovery  been  made 
in  our  absence;  or  would  it  be  made  now  that 
renovation  and  repairs  of  all  kinds  were  necessary? 
Time  finally  answered  me.  My  secret  was  safe 
and  likely  to  continue  so,  and  this  fact  once 
settled,  life  became  endurable,  if  not  cheerful. 
Since  then  I  have  spent  only  two  nights  out  of  this 
house,  and  they  were  unavoidable.  When  my 
grandfather  died  I  had  the  wainscot  door  ce 
mented  in.  It  was  done  from  this  side  and  the 
cement  painted  to  match  the  wood.  No  one 
opened  the  door  nor  have  I  ever  crossed  its  thres- 


398  Missing:  Page  Thirteen 

hold.  Sometimes  I  think  I  have  been  foolish; 
and  sometimes  I  know  that  I  have  been  very  wise. 
My  reason  has  stood  firm;  how  do  I  know  that  it 
would  have  done  so  if  I  had  subjected  myself  to 
the  possible  discovery  that  one  of  both  of  them 
might  have  been  saved  if  I  had  disclosed  instead 
of  concealed  my  ad  venture. " 

A  pause  during  which  white  horror  had  shone  on 
every  face;  then  with  a  final  glance  at  Violet,  he 
said: 

"What  sequel  do  you  see  to  this  story,  Miss 
Strange?  I  can  tell  the  past,  I  leave  you  to  picture 
the  future." 

Rising,  she  let  her  eye  travel  from  face  to  face 
till  it  rested  on  the  one  awaiting  it,  when  she 
answered  dreamily: 

"If  some  morning  in  the  news  column  there 
should  appear  an  account  of  the  ancient  and  his 
toric  home  of  the  Van  Broecklyns  having  burned 
to  the  ground  in  the  night,  the  whole  country 
would  mourn,  and  the  city  feel  defrauded  of  one 
of  its  treasures.  But  there  are  five  persons  who 
would  see  in  it  the  sequel  which  you  ask  for. " 

When  this  happened,  as  it  did  happen,  some 
few  weeks  later,  the  astonishing  discovery  was 
made  that  no  insurance  had  been  put  upon  this 


Problem  8  for  Violet  Strange      399 

house.  Why  was  it  that  after  such  a  loss  Mr. 
Van  Broecklyn  seemed  to  renew  his  youth?  It 
was  a  constant  source  of  comment  among  his 
friends. 


END  OF  PROBLEM  VIII 


PROBLEM  IX 
VIOLET'S  OWN 

"FT  has  been  too  much  for  you?" 

*     "I  am  afraid  so." 

It  was  Roger  Upjohn  who  had  asked  the  ques 
tion;  it  was  Violet  who  answered.  They  had 
withdrawn  from  a  crowd  of  dancers  to  a  balcony, 
half-shaded,  half  open  to  the  moon, — a  balcony 
made,  it  would  seem,  for  just  such  stolen  inter 
views  between  waltzes. 

Now,  as  it  happened,  Roger's  face  was  in  the 
shadow,  but  Violet's  in  the  full  light.  Very  sweet 
it  looked,  very  ethereal,  but  also  a  little  wan.  He 
noticed  this  and  impetuously  cried  : 

"You  are  pale;  and  your  hand!  see,  how  it 
trembles!" 

Slowly  withdrawing  it  from  the  rail  where  it  had 
rested,  she  sent  one  quick  glance  his  way  and,  in  a 
low  voice,  said : 

"I  have  not  slept  since  that  night." 

"Four  days!"  he  murmured.  Then,  after  a 
400 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      401 

moment  of  silence,  "You  bore  yourself  so  bravely 
at  the  time,  I  thought,  or  rather,  I  hoped,  that 
success  had  made  you  forget  the  horror.  I  could 
not  have  slept  myself,  if  I  had  known 

"It  is  part  of  the  price  I  pay,"  she  broke  in 
gently.  "All  good  things  have  to  be  paid  for. 
But  I  see — I  realize  that  you  do  not  consider  what 
I  am  doing  good.  Though  it  helps  other  people — 
has  helped  you — you  wonder  why,  with  all  the 
advantages  I  possess,  I  should  meddle  with  matters 
so  repugnant  to  a  woman's  natural  instincts. " 

Yes,  he  wondered.  That  was  evident  from  his 
silence.  Seeing  her  as  she  stood  there,  so  quaintly 
pretty,  so  feminine  in  look  and  manner — in  short, 
such  a  flower — it  was  but  natural  that  he  should 
marvel  at  the  incongruity  she  had  mentioned. 

"It  has  a  strange,  odd  look,"  she  admitted,  after 
a  moment  of  troubled  hesitation.  "The  most 
considerate  person  cannot  but  regard  it  as  a  dis 
play  of  egotism  or  of  a  most  mercenary  spirit. 
The  cheque  you  sent  me  for  what  I  was  enabled 
to  do  for  you  in  Massachusetts  (the  only  one  I 
have  ever  received  which  I  have  been  tempted  to 
refuse)  shows  to  what  extent  you  rated  my  help 
and  my — my  expectations.  Had  I  been  a  poor 
girl  struggling  for  subsistence,  this  generosity 
would  have  warmed  my  heart  as  a  token  of  your 
26 


402  Violet's  Own 

desire  to  cut  that  struggle  short.  But  taken  with 
your  knowledge  of  my  home  and  its  luxuries,  it  has 
often  made  me  wonder  what  you  thought." 

"Shall  I  tell  you? " 

He  had  stepped  forward  at  this  question  and  his 
countenance,  hitherto  concealed,  became  visible 
in  the  moonlight.  She  no  longer  recognized  it. 
Transformed  by  feeling,  it  shone  down  upon  her, 
instinct  with  all  that  is  finest  and  best  in  mascu 
line  nature.  Was  she  ready  for  this  revelation  of 
what  she  had  nevertheless  dreamed  of  for  many 
more  nights  than  four?  She  did  not  know, 
and  instinctively  drew  herself  back  till  it  was  she 
who  now  stood  in  the  semi-obscurity  made  by  the 
drooping  vines.  From  this  retreat,  she  faltered 
forth  a  very  tremulous  No,  which  in  another 
moment  was  disavowed  by  a  Yes  so  faint  it  was 
little  more  than  a  murmur,  followed  by  a  still 
fainter,  Tell  me. 

But  he  did  not  seem  in  any  haste  to  obey, 
sweetly  as  her  low-toned  injunction  must  have 
sounded  in  his  ears.  On  the  contrary,  he  hesitated 
to  speak,  growing  paler  every  minute  as  he  sought 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  downcast  face  so  tantaliz- 
ingly  hidden  from  him.  Did  she  recognize  the 
nature  of  the  feelings  which  held  him  back,  or 
was  she  simply  gathering  up  sufficient  courage  to 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      403 

plead  her  own  cause?  Whatever  her  reason,  it  was 
she,  not  he,  who  presently  spoke  saying  as  if  no 
time  had  elapsed: 

"But  first,  I  feel  obliged  to  admit  that  it  was 
money  I  wanted,  that  I  had  to  have.  Not  for 
myself.  I  lack  nothing  and  could  have  more  if 
I  wished.  Father  has  never  limited  his  generosity 
in  any  matter  affecting  myself,  but — "  She  drew 
a  deep  breath  and,  coming  out  of  the  shadow,  lifted 
a  face  to  him  so  changed  from  its  usual  expres 
sion  as  to  make  him  start.  "I  have  a  cause  at 
heart — one  which  should  appeal  to  my  father  and 
does  not;  and  for  that  purpose  I  have  sacrificed 
myself  in  many  ways,  though — though  I  have  not 
disliked  my  work  up  to  this  last  attempt.  Not 
really.  I  want  to  be  honest  and  so  must  admit  that 
much.  I  have  even  gloried  (quietly  and  all  by 
myself,  of  course)  over  the  solution  of  a  mystery 
which  no  one  else  seemed  able  to  penetrate.  I  am 
made  that  way.  I  have  known  it  ever  since — 
But  that  is  a  story  all  by  itself.  Some  day  I 
may  tell  it  to  you,  but  not  now. " 

"No,  not  now."  The  emphasis  sent  the  colour 
into  her  cheek  but  did  not  relieve  his  pallor. 
"Miss  Strange,  I  have  always  felt,  even  in  my 
worst  days,  that  the  man  who  for  selfish  ends 
brought  a  woman  under  the  shadow  of  his  own 


404  Violet's  Own 

unhappy  reputation  was  a  man  to  be  despised. 
And  I  think  so  still,  and  yet — and  yet — nothing 
in  the  world  but  your  own  word  or  look  can  hold 
me  back  now  from  telling  you  that  I  love  you — • 
love  you  notwithstanding  my  unworthy  past,  my 
scarring  memories,  my  all  but  blasted  hopes.  I 
do  not  expect  any  response;  you  are  young;  you 
are  beautiful;  you  are  gifted  with  every  grace;  but 
to  speak, — to  say  over  and  over  again,  '  I  love  you, 
I  love  you ! '  eases  my  heart  and  makes  my  future 
more  endurable.  Oh,  do  not  look  at  me  like  that 
unless — unless ' ' 

But  the  bright  head  did  not  fall,  nor  the  tender 
gaze  falter;  and  driven  out  of  himself,  Roger  Up 
john  was  about  to  step  passionately  forward,  when, 
seized  by  fresh  compunction,  he  hoarsely  cried : 

"It  is  not  right.  The  balance  dips  too  much 
my  way.  You  bring  me  everything.  I  can  give 
you  nothing  but  what  you  already  possess  in 
abundance — love,  and  money.  Besides,  your 
father " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  glance  at  once  arch 
and  earnest. 

' '  I  had  a  talk  with  father  this  morning.  He  came 
to  my  room,  and — and  it  was  very  near  being  se 
rious.  Someone  had  told  him  I  was  doing  things  on 
the  sly  which  he  had  better  look  into ;  and  of  course 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      405 

he  asked  questions  and — and  I  answered  them. 
He  wasn't  pleased — in  fact  he  was  very  displeased, 
— I  don't  think  we  can  blame  him  for  that — but  we 
had  no  open  break  for  I  love  him  dearly,  for  all  my 
opposing  ways,  and  he  saw  that,  and  it  helped, 
though  he  did  say  after  I  had  given  my  promise  to 
stop  where  I  was  and  never  to  take  up  such  work 
again,  that — "  here  she  stole  a  shy  look  at 
the  face  bent  so  eagerly  towards  her — "that  I 
had  lost  my  social  status  and  need  never  hope 
now  for  the  attentions  of — of — well,  of  such  men 
as  he  admires  and  puts  faith  in.  So  you  see," 
her  dimples  all  showing,  "that  I  am  not  such  a 
very  good  match  for  an  Upjohn  of  Massachusetts, 
even  if  he  has  a  reputation  to  recover  and  an 
honourable  name  to  achieve.  The  scale  hangs 
more  evenly  than  you  think. " 

"Violet!" 

A  mutual  look,  a  moment  of  perfect  silence, 
then  a  low  whisper,  airy  as  the  breath  of  flowers 
rising  from  the  garden  below:  "I  have  never 
known  what  happiness  was  till  this  moment.  If 
you  will  take  me  with  my  story  untold — 

"Take  you!  take  you!"  The  man's  whole 
yearning  heart,  the  loss  and  bitterness  of  years, 
the  hope  and  promise  of  the  future,  all  spoke  in 
that  low,  half -smothered  exclamation.  Violet's 


406  Violet's  Own 

blushes  faded  under  its  fervency,  and  only  her 
spirit  spoke,  as  leaning  towards  him,  she  laid  her 
two  hands  in  his,  and  said  with  all  a  woman's 
earnestness: 

"I  do  not  forget  little  Roger,  or  the  father  who 
I  hope  may  have  many  more  days  before  him  in 
which  to  bid  good-night  to  the  sea.  Such  a 
union  as  ours  must  be  hallowed,  because  we  have 
so  many  persons  to  make  happy  besides  ourselves." 

The  evening  before  their  marriage,  Violet  put  a 
dozen  folded  sheets  of  closely  written  paper  in  his 
hand.  They  contained  her  story;  let  us  read  it 
with  him. 

DEAR  ROGER, — 

I  could  not  have  been  more  than  seven  years  old, 
when  one  night  I  woke  up  shivering,  at  the  sound 
of  angry  voices.  A  conversation  which  no  child 
should  ever  have  heard,  was  going  on  in  the  room 
where  I  lay.  My  father  was  talking  to  my  sister, 
— perhaps,  you  do  not  know  that  I  have  a  sister; 
few  of  my  personal  friends  do, — and  the  terror  she 
evinced  I  could  well  understand  but  not  his  words 
nor  the  real  cause  of  his  displeasure. 

There  are  times  even  yet  when  the  picture,  forced 
upon  my  infantile  consciousness  at  that  moment 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      407 

of  first  awakening,  comes  back  to  me  with  all  its 
original  vividness.  There  was  no  light  in  the  room 
save  such  as  the  moon  made ;  but  that  was  enough 
to  reveal  the  passion  burningly  alive  in  either  face, 
as,  bending  towards  each  other,  she  in  supplica 
tion  and  he  in  a  tempest  of  wrath  which  knew  no 
bounds,  he  uttered  and  she  listened  to  what  I 
now  know  to  have  been  a  terrible  arraignment. 

I  may  have  an  interesting  countenance ;  you  have 
told  me  so  sometimes;  but  she — she  was  beautiful. 
My  elder  by  ten  years,  she  had  stood  in  my 
mother's  stead  to  me  for  almost  as  long  as  I  could 
remember,  and  as  I  saw  her  lovely  features  con 
torted  with  pain  and  her  hands  extended  in  a 
desperate  plea  to  one  who  had  never  shown  me 
anything  but  love,  my  throat  closed  sharply  and 
I  could  not  cry  out  though  I  wanted  to,  nor  move 
head  or  foot  though  I  longed  with  all  my  heart  to 
bury  myself  in  the  pillows. 

For  the  words  I  heard  were  terrifying,  little  as 
I  comprehended  their  full  purport.  He  had  sur 
prised  her  talking  from  her  window  to  someone 
down  below,  and  after  saying  cruel  things  about 
that,  he  shouted  out:  "You  have  disgraced  me, 
you  have  disgraced  yourself,  you  have  disgraced 
your  brother  and  your  little  sister.  Was  it  not 
enough  that  you  should  refuse  to  marry  the  good 


408  Violet's  Own 

man  I  had  picked  out  for  you,  that  you  should 
stoop  to  this  low-down  scoundrel — this — "  I  did 
not  hear  what  else  he  called  him,  I  was  wonder 
ing  so  to  whom  she  had  been  stooping ;  I  had  never 
seen  her  stoop  except  to  tie  my  little  shoes. 

But  when  she  cried  out  as  she  did  after  an  in 
terval,  "I  love  him!  I  love  him!"  then  I  listened 
again,  for  she  spoke  as  though  she  were  in  dreadful 
pain,  and  I  did  not  know  that  loving  made  one  ill 
and  unhappy.  "And  I  am  going  to  marry  him," 
I  heard  her  add,  standing  up,  as  she  said  it,  very 
straight  and  tall. 

Marry!  I  knew  what  that  meant.  A  long 
aisle  in  a  church;  women  in  white  and  big  music 
in  the  air  behind.  I  had  been  flower-girl  at  a 
wedding  once  and  had  not  forgotten.  We  had 
had  ice  cream  and  cake  and 

But  my  childish  thoughts  stopped  short  at  the 
answer  she  received  and  all  the  words  which  fol 
lowed, — words  which  burned  their  way  into  my 
infantile  brain  and  left  scorched  places  in  my 
memory  which  will  never  be  eradicated.  He  spoke 
them — spoke  them  all;  she  never  answered  him 
again  after  that  once,  and  when  he  was  gone  she 
did  not  move  for  a  long  time  and  when  she  did, 
it  was  to  lie  down,  stiff  and  straight,  just  as  she 
had  stood,  on  her  bed  alongside  mine. 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      409 

I  was  frightened;  so  frightened,  my  little  brass 
bed  rattled  under  me.  I  wonder  she  did  not  hear 
it.  But  she  heard  nothing;  and  after  awhile  she 
was  so  still  I  fell  asleep.  But  I  woke  again. 
Something  hot  had  fallen  on  my  cheek.  I  put  up 
my  hand  to  brush  it  away  and  did  not  know  even 
when  I  felt  my  fingers  wet  that  it  was  a  tear  from 
my  sister-mother's  eye. 

For  she  was  kneeling  then ;  kneeling  close  beside 
me  and  her  arm  was  over  my  small  body ;  and  the 
bed  was  shaking  again  but  not  this  time  with  my 
tremors  only.  And  I  was  sorry  and  cried  too 
until  I  dropped  off  to  sleep  again  with  her  arm  still 
passionately  embracing  me. 

In  the  morning,  she  was  gone. 

It  must  have  been  that  very  afternoon  that 
Father  came  in  where  Arthur  and  I  were  trying 
to  play; — trying,  but  not  quite  succeeding,  for  I 
had  been  telling  Arthur,  for  whom  I  had  a  great 
respect  in  those  days,  what  had  happened  the 
night  before,  and  we  had  been  wondering  in  our 
childish  way  if  there  would  be  a  wedding  after 
all,  and  a  church  full  of  people,  and  flowers, 
and  kissing,  and  lots  of  good  things  to  eat,  and 
Arthur  had  said  No,  it  was  too  expensive;  that 
that  was  why  Father  was  so  angry;  and  com 
forted  by  the  assertion,  I  was  taking  up  my  doll 


410  Violet's  Owi} 

again,  when  the  door  opened  and  Father  stepped 
in. 

It  was  a  great  event — any  visit  from  him  to  the 
nursery — and  we  both  dropped  our  toys  and  stood 
staring,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  going  to  be 
nice  and  kind  as  he  sometimes  was,  or  scold  us  as 
I  had  heard  him  scold  our  beautiful  sister. 

Arthur  showed  at  once  what  he  thought,  for 
without  the  least  hesitation  he  took  the  one  step 
which  placed  him  in  front  of  me,  where  he  stood 
waiting  with  his  two  little  fists  hanging  straight  at 
his  sides  but  manfully  clenched  in  full  readiness  for 
attack.  That  this  display  of  pigmy  chivalry  was 
not  quite  without  its  warrant  is  evident  to  me 
now,  for  Father  did  not  look  like  himself  or  act  like 
himself  any  more  than  he  had  the  night  before. 

However,  we  had  no  cause  for  fear.  Having 
no  suspicion  of  my  having  been  awake  during  his 
terrible  interview  with  Theresa,  he  saw  only  two 
lonely  and  forsaken  children,  interrupted  in  their 
play. 

Can  I  remember  what  he  said  to  us?    Not 

• 

exactly,  though  Arthur  and  I  often  went  over  it  in 
choked  whispers  in  some  secret  nook  of  the  dreary 
old  house;  but  his  meaning — that  we  took  in  well 
enough.  Theresa  had  left  us.  She  would  never 
come  back.  We  were  not  to  look  out  of  the  win- 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      411 

dow  for  her,  or  run  to  the  door  when  the  bell  rang. 
Our  mother  had  left  us  too,  a  long  time  ago,  and 
she  lay  in  the  cemetery  where  we  sometimes  car 
ried  flowers.  Theresa  was  not  in  the  cemetery, 
but  we  must  think  of  her  as  there;  though  not  as 
if  she  had  any  need  of  flowers.  Having  said  this, 
he  looked  at  us  quietly  for  a  minute.  Arthur  was 
trying  very  hard  not  to  cry,  but  I  was  sobbing  like 
the  lost  child  I  was,  with  my  cheek  against  the 
floor  where  I  had  thrown  myself  when  he  said  that 
awful  thing  about  the  cemetery.  She  there!  my 
sister-mother  there!  I  think  he  felt  a  little  sorry 
for  me ;  for  he  half  stooped  as  if  to  lift  me  up.  But 
he  straightened  again  and  said  very  sternly : 

"  Now,  children,  listen  to  me.  When  God  takes 
people  to  heaven  and  leaves  us  only  their  cold, 
dead  bodies  we  carry  flowers  to  their  graves  and 
talk  about  them  some  if  not  very  much.  But 
when  people  die  because  they  love  dark  ways  better 
than  light,  then  we  do  not  remember  them  with 
gifts  and  we  do  not  talk  about  them.  Your 
sister's  name  has  been  spoken  for  the  last  time  in 
this  house.  You,  Arthur,  are  old  enough  to  know 
what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  I  will  never  listen 
to  another  word  about  her  from  either  you  or 
Violet  as  long  as  you  and  I  live.  She  is  gone  and 
nothing  that  is  mine  shall  she  ever  touch  again. 


412  Violet's  Own 

You  hear  me,  Arthur;  you  hear  me,  Violet.  Heed 
me,  or  you  go  too." 

His  aspect  was  terrible,  so  was  his  purpose; 
much  more  terrible  than  we  realized  at  the  time, 
with  our  limited  understanding  and  experience. 
Later,  we  came  to  know  the  full  meaning  of  this 
black  drop  which  had  been  infused  into  our  lives. 
When  we  saw  every  picture  of  her  destroyed  which 
had  been  in  the  house ;  her  name  cut  out  from  the 
leaves  of  books ;  the  little  tokens  she  had  given  us 
surreptitiously  taken  away,  till  not  a  vestige  of 
her  once  beloved  presence  remained,  we  began  to 
realize  that  we  had  indeed  lost  her. 

But  children  as  young  as  we  were  then  do  not 
long  retain  the  poignancy  of  their  first  griefs. 
Gradually  my  memories  of  that  awful  night  ceased 
to  disturb  my  dreams  and  I  was  sixteen  before  they 
were  again  recalled  to  me  with  any  vividness,  and 
then  it  was  by  accident.  I  had  been  strolling 
through  a  picture  gallery  and  had  stopped  short 
to  study  more  particularly  one  which  had  especially 
taken  my  fancy.  There  were  two  ladies  sitting 
on  a  bench  behind  me  and  one  of  them  was  evi 
dently  very  deaf,  for  their  talk  was  loud,  though  I 
am  sure  they  did  not  mean  for  me  to  hear,  for  they 
were  discussing  my  family.  That  is,  one  of  them 
had  said: 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      413 

"That's  Violet  Strange.  She  will  never  be  the 
beauty  her  sister  was;  but  perhaps  that's  not  to 
be  deplored.  Theresa  made  a  great  mess  of  it. " 

"That's  true.  I  hear  that  she  and  the  Signor 
have  been  seen  lately  here  in  town.  In  poverty, 
of  course.  He  hadn't  even  as  much  go  in  him  as 
the  ordinary  singing-master." 

I  suppose  I  should  have  hurried  away,  and  left 
this  barbed  arrow  to  rankle  where  it  fell.  But  I 
could  not.  I  had  never  learned  a  word  of  Theresa's 
fate  and  that  word  poverty,  proving  that  she  was 
alive  and  suffering,  held  me  to  my  place  to  hear 
what  more  they  might  say  of  her  who  for  years 
had  been  for  me  an  indistinct  figure  bathed  in 
cruel  moonlight. 

"I  have  never  approved  of  Peter  Strange's 
conduct  at  that  time,"  one  of  the  voices  now  went 
on.  "He  didn't  handle  her  rkht .  She  had  a  lovely 
disposition  and  would  have  listened  to  him  had  he 
been  more  gentle  with  her.  But  it  isn't  in  him. 
I  hope  this  one— 

I  didn't  hear  the  end  of  that.  I  had  no  interest 
in  anything  they  might  say  about  myself.  It  was 
of  her  I  wanted  to  hear,  of  her.  Weren't  they 
going  to  say  anything  more  about  my  poor  sister? 
Yes;  it  was  a  topic  which  interested  both  and 
presently  I  heard: 


414  Violet's  Own 

"Hell  never  do  anything  for  her,  no  matter  what 
happens;  I've  heard  him  say  so.  And  Laura  has 
vowed  the  same. "  (Laura  is  our  aunt.)  "Besides, 
Theresa  has  a  pride  of  her  own  quite  equal  to  her 
father's.  She  wouldn't  take  anything  from  him 
now.  She'd  rather  struggle  on.  I'm  told — I 
don't  know  how  true  it  is — that  she's  working  in 
a  department  store;  one  of  the  Sixth  Avenue  ones. 
Oh,  there's  Mrs.  Vandegraff !  Don't  you  want  to 
speak  to  her?" 

They  moved  off,  leaving  me  still  gazing  with 
unseeing  eyes  at  the  picture  before  which  I  stood 
planted,  and  saying  over  and  over  in  monotonous 
iteration,  "One  of  the  department  stores  in  Sixth 
Avenue!  One  of  the  department  stores  in  Sixth 
Avenue ! 

Which  department  store? 

I  meant  to  find  out. 

I  do  not  know  whether  up  till  then  I  had  had  the 
least  consciousness  of  possessing  what  is  called 
the  detective  instinct.  But,  at  the  prospect  of 
this  quest,  so  much  like  that  of  the  proverbial 
needle  in  a  haystack,  as  I  did  not  even  know  my 
sister's  married  name  and  something  within  me 
forbade  my  asking  it,  I  experienced  an  odd  sense 
of  elation  followed  by  a  certainty  of  success  which 
in  five  minutes  changed  me  from  an  irresponsible 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      415 

girl  to  a  woman  with  a  deliberate   purpose    in 
life. 

I  am  not  going  to  write  down  here  all  the  details 
of  that  search.  Some  day  I  may  relate  them  to  you, 
but  not  now.  I  looked  first  for  a  beautiful  woman, 
for  the  straight,  slim,  and  exquisite  creature  I 
remembered.  I  did  not  find  her.  Then  I  tried 
another  course.  Her  figure  might  have  changed  in 
the  ten  years  which  had  elapsed ;  so  might  her  ex 
pression.  I  would  look  for  a  woman  with  beauti 
ful  dark  eyes;  time  could  not  have  altered  them. 
I  had  forgotten  the  effect  of  constant  weeping. 
And  I  saw  many  eyes,  but  not  hers ;  not  the  ones 
I  had  seen  smiling  upon  me  as  I  lay  in  my  crib 
before  the  days  I  was  lifted  to  the  dignity  of  the 
little  brass  bed.  So  I  gave  that  up  too  and  listened 
to  the  inner  voice  which  said,  "You  must  wait  for 
her  to  recognize  you.  You  can  never  hope  to 
recognize  her."  And  it  was  by  following  this  plan 
that  I  found  her.  I  had  arranged  to  have  my 
name  spoken  aloud  at  every  counter  where  I  bar 
gained  ;  and  oh,  the  bargains  I  sought,  and  the  gar 
ments  I  had  tried  on !  But  I  made  little  progress 
until  one  day,  after  my  name  had  been  ut 
tered  a  little  louder  than  usual  I  saw  a  woman 
turn  from  rearranging  gowns  on  a  hanger,  and 
give  me  one  look. 


416  Violet's  Own 

I  uttered  a  low  cry  and  sprang  impetuously 
forward.  Instantly  she  turned  her  back  and  went 
on  hanging,  or  trying  to  hang  up,  gowns  on  the  rack 
before  her.  Had  I  been  mistaken?  She  was  not 
the  sister  of  my  dreams,  but  there  was  something 
fine  in  her  outline;  something  distinguished  in  the 
way  she  carried  her  head  which 

Next  minute  my  last  doubt  fled !  She  had  fallen 
her  length  on  the  floor  and  lay  with  her  face  buried 
in  her  hands  in  a  dead  faint. 

Oh,  Roger,  Roger,  Roger!  I  had  that  dear  head 
on  my  breast  in  a  moment.  I  talked  to  her,  I 
whispered  prayers  in  her  unconscious  ear.  I  did 
everything  I  should  not  have  done  till  they  all 
thought  me  demented.  When  she  came  to,  as 
sjie  did  under  other  ministrations  than  mine,  I  was 
for  carrying  her  off  in  my  limousine.  But  she 
shook  her  head  with  a  gesture  of  such  disapproval, 
that  I  realized  I  could  not  do  that.  The  limousine 
was  my  father's,  and  nothing  of  his  was  ever  to  be 
used  for  her  again.  I  would  call  a  cab;  but  she 
told  me  that  she  had  not  the  money  to  pay  for  it 
and  she  would  not  take  mine.  Carfare  she  had; 
five  cents  would  take  her  home.  I  need  not  worry. 

She  smiled  as  she  said  this  and  for  an  instant  I 
saw  my  dream-sister  again  in  this  weary  half- 
disheartened  woman.  But  the  smile  was  a  fleet- 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      417 

ing  one,  for  this  was  to  be  her  last  day  in  the  store ; 
she  had  no  talent  as  a  saleswoman  and  was  merely 
working  out  her  week. 

I  felt  my  heart  sink  heavily  at  this,  for  the 
evidences  of  poverty  were  plainly  to  be  seen  in  her 
clothes  and  the  thinness  of  her  face  and  figure. 
How  could  I  help?  What  could  I  do?  I  took  her 
to  a  restaurant  for  food  and  talk,  and  before  she 
would  order,  she  looked  into  her  purse,  with  the 
result  that  we  had  only  a  little  toast  and  tea. 
It  was  all  she  could  afford  and  I,  with  a  hundred 
dollars  in  bills  at  that  moment  in  my  bag,  could  not 
offer  her  anything  more  though  she  was  needing 
nourishment  and  dishes  piled  with  savoury  meats 
were  going  by  us  every  moment. 

I  think,  if  she  had  let  me,  I  would  have  dared  my 
father's  displeasure  and  been  disobedient  to  his 
wishes  by  giving  her  one  wholesome  meal.  But 
she  was  as  resolute  of  mind  as  he,  and,  as  she  said 
afterwards,  had  chosen  her  course  in  life  and  must 
abide  by  it.  My  love  she  would  accept.  It  took 
nothing  from  father  and  gave  her  what  her  heart 
was  pining  for — had  pined  for  for  years.  But 
nothing  more — not  another  thing  more.  She  would 
not  even  let  me  go  home  with  her ;  and  I  knew  why 
when  her  eyes  fell  at  the  searching  look  I  gave  her. 

Something  would  turn  up,  and  when  her  husband's 

27 


4i8  Violet's  Own 

health  was  better  and  she  had  found  another  posi 
tion  she  would  send  me  her  address  and  then  I 
could  come  and  see  her.  As  we  walked  out  of  the 
restaurant  we  ran  against  a  gentleman  I  knew. 
He  stopped  me  for  a  passing  word  and  in  that  min 
ute  she  disappeared.  I  did  not  try  to  follow  her. 
I  could  get  her  street  and  number  from  the  store 
where  she  had  worked. 

But  when  I  had  done  this  and  embraced  the 
first  opportunity  which  offered  to  visit  her,  I  found 
that  she  had  moved  away  in  the  interim,  leaving 
everything  behind  in  payment  of  her  rent,  except 
such  small  things  as  she  and  her  husband  could 
carry.  This  was  discouraging  as  it  left  me  with 
out  any  clue  by  which  to  follow  them.  But  I 
was  determined  not  to  yield  to  her  desire  for 
concealment  in  the  difficult  and  disheartening  task 
I  now  saw  before  me. 

Seeking  advice  from  the  man  who  has  since 
become  my  employer,  I  entered  upon  this  second 
search  with  a  quiet  resolution  which  admitted  of 
no  defeat.  It  took  me  six  months,  but  I  finally 
found  her,  and  satisfied  with  knowing  where  she 
was,  desisted  from  rushing  in  upon  her,  till  I  had 
caught  one  glimpse  of  her  husband  whom,  in  the 
last  six  months,  I  had  heard  described  but  had 
never  seen.  To  understand  her,  it  was  perhaps 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange     419 

necessary  to  understand  him,  and  if  I  could  not 
hope  to  do  this  offhand,  I  could  not  fail  to  get  some 
idea  of  the  man  from  even  the  most  casual  look. 

He  was,  as  I  soon  learned,  the  fetcher  and  carrier 
of  the  small  menage;  and  the  day  came  when  I 
met  him  face  to  face  in  the  street  where  they  lived. 
Did  he  disappoint  me;  or  did  I  see  something  in  his 
appearance  to  justify  her  desertion  of  her  father's 
home  and  her  present  life  of  poverty?  If  I  say 
Yes  to  the  first  question,  I  must  also  say  it  to  the 
last.  If  handsome  once,  he  was  not  handsome 
now;  but  with  a  personality  such  as  his,  this  did 
not  matter.  He  had  that  better  thing — that 
greatest  gift  of  the  gods — charm.  It  was  in  his 
bearing,  his  movement,  the  regard  of  his  weary 
eye ;  more  than  that  it  was  in  his  very  nature  or  it 
would  have  vanished  long  ago  under  disappoint 
ment  and  privation. 

But  that  was  all  there  was  to  the  man, — a  golden 
net  in  which  my  sister's  youthful  fancy  had  been 
caught  and  no  doubt  held  meshed  to  this  very  day. 
I  felt  less  like  blaming  her  for  her  folly,  after  that 
instant's  view  of  him  as  we  passed  each  other  in 
the  street.  But,  as  I  took  time  to  think,  I  found 
myself  growing  sorrier  and  sorrier  for  her  and  yet, 
in  a  way,  gladder  and  gladder,  for  the  man  was  a 
physical  wreck  and  would  soon  pass  out  of  her  life 


420  Violet's  Own 

leaving  her  to  my  love  and  possibly  to  our  father's 
forgiveness. 

But  I  did  not  know  Theresa.  After  her  hus 
band's  death,  which  occurred  very  soon,  she  let  me 
come  to  her  and  we  had  a  long  talk.  Shall  I  ever 
forget  it  or  the  sight  of  her  beauty  in  that  sordid 
room?  For,  account  for  it  as  you  will,  the  loveli 
ness  which  had  fled  under  her  sense  of  complete 
isolation  had  slowly  regained  its  own  with  the 
recognition  that  she  still  had  a  place  in  the  heart 

of  her  little  sister.     Not  even  the  sorrow  she  felt 

i 

for  the  loss  of  her  suffering  husband — and  she 
did  mourn  him;  this  I  am  glad  to  say — could 
more  than  temporarily  stay  this.  Six  months 
of  ease  and  wholesome  food  would  make  her — I 
hardly  dared  to  think  what.  For  I  knew,  without 
asking  her,  or  she  telling  me,  that  she  would  accept 
neither;  that  she  was  as  determined  now,  as  ever, 
that  nothing  which  came  directly  or  indirectly  from 
Father  should  go  to  the  rebuilding  of  her  life. 
That  she  intended  to  start  anew  and  work  her  way 
up  to  a  place  where  I  should  be  glad  to  see  her  she 
did  say.  But  nothing  more.  She  was  still  the 
sister-mother,  loving,  but  sufficient  to  herself, 
though  she  had  but  ten  dollars  left  in  the  world,  as 
she  showed  me  with  a  smile  that  made  her  beauti 
ful  as  an  angel. 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      421 

I  can  see  that  shabby  little  purse  yet  with  its 
one  poor  greasy  bill ; — a  sum  to  her  but  to  me  the 
price  of  a  luncheon  or  a  gift  of  flowers.  How  I 
longed,  as  I  looked  at  it  to  tear  every  jewel  from 
my  poor,  bedecked  body  and  fling  them  one  and 
all  into  her  lap.  I  had  worn  them  in  profusion, 
though  carefully  hidden  under  my  coat,  in  the 
hope  that  she  would  accept  one  of  them  at  least. 
But  she  refused  all,  even  such  as  had  been  gifts 
of  friends  and  schoolmates,  only  humouring 
me  this  far,  that  she  let  me  hang  them  for  a  few 
minutes  about  her  neck  and  in  her  hair  and  then 
pull  them  all  off  again.  But  this  one  vision  of  her 
in  the  splendour  she  was  born  to  comforted  me. 
Henceforth  in  wearing  them  it  would  be  of  her  and 
not  of  myself  I  should  think. 

Well,  I  had  to  leave  her  and  go  home  to  my 
French  and  Italian  lessons,  my  music-masters  and 
all  the  luxuries  of  our  father's  house.  Should  I 
ever  see  her  again?  I  did  not  know;  she  had  not 
promised.  I  could  not  go  often  into  the  quarter 
where  she  lived,  without  rousing  suspicion;  and 
she  had  bidden  me  not  to  come  again  for  a  month. 
So  I  waited,  half  fearing  she  would  flit  again  before 
the  month  was  up.  But  she  did  not.  She  was 

still  there  when 

But  I  am  going  too  fast.     The  meeting  I  was 


422  Violet's  Own 

about  to  mention  was  a  very  memorable  one  to  me, 
and  I  must  describe  it  from  the  beginning.  I  had 
ridden  in  my  own  car  as  near  as  I  dared  to  the 
street  where  she  lived;  the  rest  of  the  way  I  went 
on  foot  with  one  of  the  servants — a  new  one — 
following  close  behind  me.  I  was  not  exactly 
afraid,  but  the  actions  of  some  of  the  people  I  had 
encountered  at  my  former  visit  warned  me  to  be 
a  little  careful  for  my  father's  sake  if  not  for  my 
own.  Her  room — she  had  but  one — was  high  up 
in  a  triangular  court  it  was  no  pleasure  to  enter. 
But  love  and  loyalty  heed  nothing  but  the  object 
sought,  and  I  was  hunting  about  for  the  dark 
doorway  which  opened  upon  the  staircase  leading 
to  her  room  when — and  this  was  the  great  moment 
of  my  life — a  sudden  stream  of  melody  floated 
down  into  that  noisome  court,  which  from  its 
clearness,  its  accuracy,  its  richness,  and  its  feeling 
startled  me  as  I  had  never  before  been  startled 
even  by  the  first  notes  of  the  world's  greatest 
singers.  What  a  voice  for  a  place  like  this !  What 
a  voice  for  any  place !  Whose  could  it  be?  With 
a  start,  I  stopped  short,  in  the  middle  of  that  court, 
heedless  of  the  crowd  of  pushing,  shouting  children 
who  at  once  gathered  about  me.  I  had  been  struck 
by  an  old  recollection.  My  sister  used  to  sing. 
I  remembered  where  her  piano  had  stood  in  the 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      423 

great  drawing-room.  It  had  been  carted  away 
during  those  dreadful  weeks  and  her  music  all 
burned ;  but  the  vision  of  her  graceful  figure  bend 
ing  over  the  keyboard  was  one  not  to  be  forgotten 
even  by  a  thoughtless  child.  Could  it  be — oh, 
heaven!  if  this  voice  were  hers!  Her  future  was 
certain;  she  had  but  to  sing. 

In  a  transport  of  hope  I  rushed  for  the  dim  en 
trance  the  children  had  pointed  out  and  flew  up  to 
her  room.  As  I  reached  it,  I  heard  a  trill  as  per 
fect  as  Tetrazzini's.  The  singer  was  Theresa; 
there  could  be  no  more  doubt.  Theresa!  exercis 
ing  a  grand  voice  as  only  a  great  artist  would  or 
could. 

The  joy  of  it  made  me  almost  faint.  I  leaned 
against  her  door  and  sobbed.  Then  when  I 
thought  I  could  speak  quite  calmly,  I  went  in. 

Roger,  you  must  understand  me  now, — my 
desire  for  money  and  the  means  I  have  taken  to 
obtain  it.  My  sister  had  the  makings  of  a  prima- 
donna.  Her  husband,  of  whose  ability  I  had 
formed  so  low  an  estimate,  had  trained  her  with 
consummate  skill  and  judgment.  All  she  needed 
was  a  year  with  some  great  maestro  in  the  foreign 
atmosphere  of  art.  But  this  meant  money — not 
hundreds  but  thousands,  and  the  one  sure  source 


424  Violet's  Own 

to  which  we  might  rightfully  look  for  any  such 
amount  was  effectually  closed  to  us.  It  is  true  we 
had  relatives — an  aunt  on  our  mother's  side,  and 
I  mentioned  her  to  Theresa.  But  she  would  not 
listen  to  the  suggestion.  She  would  take  nothing 
from  any  one  whom  she  would  find  it  hard  to  face 
in  case  of  failure.  Love  must  go  with  an  advance 
involving  so  much  risk;  love  deep  enough  and 
strong  enough  to  feel  no  loss  save  that  of  a  de 
feated  hope.  In  short,  to  be  acceptable,  the 
money  must  come  from  me,  and  as  this  was  mani 
festly  impossible,  she  considered  the  matter  closed 
and  began  to  talk  of  a  position  she  had  been  offered 
in  some  choir.  I  let  her  talk,  listening  and  not 
listening;  for  the  idea  had  come  to  me  that  if  in 
some  way  I  could  earn  money,  she  might  be  in 
duced  to  take  it.  Finally,  I  asked  her.  She 
laughed,  letting  her  kisses  answer  me.  But  I  did 
not  laugh.  If  she  had  capabilities  in  one  way,  I 
had  them  in  another. 

I  went  home  to  think. 

Two  weeks  later,  I  began,  in  a  very  quiet  way 
to  do  certain  work  for  the  man  who  had  helped 
me  in  my  second  search  for  Theresa.  The  money 
I  have  earned  has  been  immense ;  since  it  was  the 
troubles  of  the  rich  I  was  given  to  settle,  and  I  was 
almost  always  successful.  Every  cent  has  gone 


Problem  9  for  Violet  Strange      425 

to  her.  She  has  been  in  Europe  for  a  year  and  last 
week  she  made  her  debut.  You  read  about  it  in 
the  papers,  but  neither  you  nor  any  one  else  in  this 
country  but  myself  knew  that  under  the  name  she 
had  chosen  to  assume,  Theresa  Strange,  the  long 
forgotten  beauty,  has  recovered  that  place  in  the 
world,  to  which  her  love  and  genius  entitle  her. 

This  is  my  story  and  hers.  From  now  on,  you 
are  the  third  in  the  secret.  Some  day,  my  father 
will  be  the  fourth.  I  think  then,  a  new  dawn  of 
love  will  arise  for  us  all,  which  will  stay  the 
whitening  of  his  dear  head — for  I  believe  in  him 
after  all.  Yesterday  when  he  passed  the  wall 
where  her  picture  once  hung — no  other  has  ever 
hung  there — I  saw  him  stop  and  look  up,  and, 
Roger,  when  he  passed  me  a  minute  later,  there 
was  a  tear  in  his  hard  eye. 


FINIS 


RETURN    CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling        642-3405 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


SENT  ON  ILL 

MAY  0  6  1996 

U.  C.  BERKELEY 

j«i»'-:- 

->«  i  8  • 

SENT  ON  ILL 

nrj  n  i  tw? 

U.  C  BERKFLFY 

SENT  ON  ILL 

MAY  l  9  2005 

U.C.  BERKELEY 

FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 

®s 


4fff».. 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDDb837bfl2 


